St. Patrick’s Day, otherwise known as the day I kissed my husband for the first time. FIFTEEN years ago.

The way time flies by totally freaks me out. I know everyone says it and it is a huge cliché etc. I just can’t get over it. I guess I thought I would be young forever, and well, I guess I thought I would be turn out to be immortal or something. You know that song Forever Young by Alphaville? That is like my personal anthem. My grandmother always told me she felt like a young girl inside and that looking in the mirror never stopped surprising her. I get it. I totally, totally get it.

If I could have one superpower I would freeze time, or maybe go back and just relive certain moments. Like the time we let our youngest son drive a golf cart when he was 5. His joy was a bigger joy than any joy I have ever seen. I could live in that moment for eternity.

I would go back to the last time I nursed each of my babies, and read them a story book at bedtime, and to the last time they napped on my chest or crawled into my bed with a bad dream. Just to savour it, to make sure I recognized the significance and sweetness of the moment and to store it in my memory (why not to their births you ask? Cause that shit hurt!!). I would go back to many of my teenage and 2o something days… to quite simply being that carefree. I would go even further back to my elementary school days when we hiked in the forest and ate our lunches by the river. I would definitely relive our wedding again.

Most of all, I would go back to today 15 years ago. The day that I kissed my husband for the first time. We had just spent an exhausting day together at a video shoot with his band. I held his hand that day during a break during a crowd scene because he had a groupie that would just not leave him be. I was helping him out of a bad situation and it felt good.

Just days before at my birthday party at a bar downtown I had tried to set him up with not one, but two of my sisters. I told them was a sweet and gentle man he was, I sat him right in between them. One of them wisely inquired… “If he is so great, why aren’t you dating him?” I had a myriad of excuses. What it boiled down to was that I thought I needed to be alone. I had JUST ended a really toxic relationship and felt damaged, sad, and uncertain of myself and thought I needed more time to get over it. I thought being alone was what one did under those circumstances.

He came home with me in a taxi after the shoot, just to hang out, to smoke a joint and relax. There was a little souvenir viewfinder of Vegas in the shape of a camera sitting on the seat so we kept it. (It sits on our kitchen window sill).

We were on the sofa, chatting and I could see all over his face that he was gearing up to kiss me. Inside of myself I completely freaked out. Because I knew that he was a very unique man. A serious man with morals. It would really mean something to him if I kissed him, so I couldn’t take it lightly.

I didn’t want to lead him on, or hurt him in any way, but on the other hand I didn’t want to embarrass him by not kissing him (and besides I wanted to) but I didn’t want to make him think we would have a relationship because I really wasn’t ready and I really needed to be alone. Didn’t I?

Something happened then that I can’t adequately explain, but that was a near to a religious experience as well, my religious experience (more on that another time). It was like a voice whispering to me, but from within. Perhaps how it would feel if someone was telepathically speaking to me. It was as clear a message as I have ever received. I had absolute complete belief. I had absolute peace and surety. The essence of the message was…

IT IS OK. YOU ARE NOT GOING TO HURT HIM. KISS THIS MAN.

(I don’t think the caps really gives the right impression. It seems harsh, and in reality it was the opposite of harsh… Maybe italics will be better?).

It is okay. You are not going to hurt him. Kiss this man.

(Yup, much better)

And so I did.

And it was HOT. We stood in the hallway of my house making out for  a long time. Then he left and I went back into the house and when I saw my roommates I told them, because I was more sure of this than I have ever been about anything, that he was THE ONE.

And so he was.

I know I can’t re-live it…the time I was the most sure of something. The time I knew a thing without a single doubt. I hope that I get the chance to be that confident about a decision again in my life, but for now…

Happy kissing anniversary Charlie! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx