Today when I heard about the Supreme Court ruling for same-sex marriage, I tried to memorize the morning. The mug of French roast coffee. Michael Franti singing on my iPhone. My husband on the couch, reading sports headlines. A scroll of news on my computer. My 11-month-old son crawling on the floor, building a tower of soft blocks. It was so normal, so everyday.
And yet, it was extraordinary.
I wanted to imprint it all on my brain so someday, when my son asks about the historic day all Americans received the right to marry, I could tell him every detail: The pale haze that diffused the sunshine. The humidity that hung thick in the air. The whirr of a lawnmower. How history was just a moment after breakfast, when everything was the same and different all at once, and a cup of coffee was suddenly underscored with great importance, and I was joyful.
Then I realized my son might never ask me about this day at all — because he will have no reason to. He will grow up in a country where people just get married. No qualifier.
This is all he will ever know: That people love and are loved.
– Add one woman, fragile with fear and grief, and send her up in a plane
– Combine with one tender-hearted skydiving instructor who offers to skip the skydive and ride the plane down instead
– Jump anyway. Jump with this man, even when your hands shake and your stomach is in your throat. Make one skydive, and then make another, and make hundreds more after that. And when the instructor asks you on a date, say yes. Yes! You’ve already trusted him with your life.
– Drizzle with chocolate.
Warm Sugar Cookie
– White mocha hot chocolate
– Hazelnut syrup (1 pump tall, 2 grande, 3 venti)
– Vanilla syrup (1 pump tall, 2 grande, 3 venti)
– Sprinkle raw sugar on top
– Add the winter day on the steps of Immaculata Church, warming your hands on a thermos and watching the sun rise over Mt. Adams.
– Add strawberry, orange, mango and very berry juice to the first line
– Fill with lemonade to top
– Spend days chattering with monkeys, rowing the Amazon and drinking rum on a sugar plantation. Fall asleep in a thatched rainforest hut, smeared with deet, bodies tangled like jungle vines
– Add ice and shake!
Stormy Days Tea
– Earl Grey tea semi dry misto
– 2 pumps vanilla syrup
– 2 pumps of caramel syrup
– Add one skydiving accident
– A move across the country
– One stolen car
– Your mother’s death
– Fertility issues
– Miscarriage
– Illness
– Moving. Three more times.
– Cling to each other because the world feels too vicious and sad to navigate alone.
Anniversary Cake Frappuccino
– Vanilla soy frappuccino
– 2 pumps hazelnut
– Add 1 beautiful, boisterous baby
– Toss in 2 teeth cutting baby’s gums
– A broken dryer and a clogged kitchen sink
– Burn the pancakes and forget to make the coffee
– Call the babysitter
– Drive away giggling because the dishes can wait and the laundry will air dry, but this is your anniversary day
– Go to the movies and hold hands for two hours, as though you just met
Before I was a happily married woman, I was a dater. And a lot of bad dates were had. Sometimes the bad dates were caused by unfortunate circumstances. Other times, unfortunate pairings.
Here are 23 of them.
1. The real estate agent who licked my face and left a lingering fragrance of mold.
2. The guy who brought a guitar along and played REO Speedwagon’s “Take It On the Run.” Repeatedly.
3. The editor who kissed me softly, then grabbed my tongue with his hand.
4. The hippie who made me sit at his feet while he sat in a rocking chair and made a gift for me using sticks, weeds and feathers from a dead bird. “It’s a dream catcher,” he said. “It’s for catching your dreams.”
5. The guy who brought his girlfriend along.
6. The drug dealer named Dodge who said, “Maggie, you’re so beautiful and elegant. I would even take you to Red Lobster.” And he never did.
7. The libertarian club president who brought me to a mental institution for our first date. (True story: He later murdered his father by stabbing him more than 50 times.)
8. The guy who was a perfect gentleman. And then told all his friends we had sex.
9. The belligerent alcoholic who got himself arrested at Gold Star Chili. Then he asked me for bail money.
10. The one who Lysol-ed his dirty socks and wore them again.
11. The guy who took me to Burger King. Halfway through our meal he checked his watch and said, “Can we hurry this up? Melrose Place is starting soon.
12. The guy with gigantic tanks of eels in his dorm room.
13. The DJ whose idea of a date was dropping acid.
14. The time my date puked inside the spinning Gravitron carnival ride, making all the little kids weep.
15. The guy who passed out on my living room floor. With his pants down. And his penis in his hand.
16. The brilliant drink-10-pints-of-Guinness-in-one-sitting drinking challenge. (My idea, unfortunately.)
17. The man who cried into his wet burrito, freshly heartbroken over a recent breakup.
18. The marathon runner who excused himself to use the restroom and never came back.
19. The foam party where my date slipped on a floor full of dirty bubbles and cracked a tooth.
20. The party that included a guy named Ishmael with a wad of hash. I went temporarily blind and my friend Gretchen had to hold my hand and walk me home.
21. The one who took me on a hike so long, so difficult and so far into the wilderness, I thought I would eventually have to eat him.
22. The time the guy I was dating paid his roommate to take me out instead. Turns out I preferred the roommate.
23. The guy who read everything in a newscaster voice. Even the brunch menu.
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I’m blogging as part of the Scintilla Project, a fortnight of storytelling. Check it out!
