On this day, 37 years ago, I looked across the room while waiting to present my passport at the Montego Bay airport, and saw the man I would marry a year later.
Literally, looked across the room and saw him greeting his friend who had come on a different flight and thought “ooh, isn’t he cute?”, followed by, “no, you brought a suitcase full of books (well, 2 books), because you are here to chill and revive yourself from mommy’s death.”
I walked outside to join my friend and saw her talking to him at the back of the truck that sells beer to thirsty 20-somethings on their way to the various Jamaica resorts.
We chatted, and parted, and when it came time to get on the buses, we hung back to see what bus he and his friends got on. And we got on that bus. Oh convenient there was a seat on the opposite side of the aisle one row up!
It became a day of chat and part and meet up and separate until we and they and another couple and three singles became a group of 10 for the week. We had so much fun.
I remember so clearly in my head saying “don’t be a downer”, “don’t lead with ‘my mother just died so that’s why I’m here’”; I remember him asking me the typical “how does someone like you not have a boyfriend”, and I didn’t even go into the sob story of my last relationship and the messy break up.
At the end of the week, we parted in the early morning when his bus left at 6 a.m. and mine, along with 5 others in our group, left a few hours later. We vowed to stay in touch, to call at the end of the next week, to send pictures once they were developed. Did I sob all the way home – no actually I didn’t. I had this unbelievable faith that this was not the end. Did it matter than he lived in California and I lived in Connecticut? No! It did not.
We talked after a week, then a weekly call became twice weekly, became every night, became first thing in his morning to last thing in my day.
We wrote letters – so many letters! Every day. Single sheets (from him) to 4 page novels (from me). I have every one of them except my first to him (I think that’s a little telling…). We talked about families and life and who we were and how we felt.
He came to visit the week of 4th of July and met my family and visited with friends and we decided, “Yes, I want to spend more time with you”.
I went to visit in mid-August and he asked me to marry him.
I proceeded to pack my belongings and mailed out boxes via UPS. No furniture, just clothes I didn’t currently need, and any of my treasures that were worth packing. I sold my car, and quit my job (oh, but I hated to leave the best job I ever had!), and the Saturday of Columbus Day weekend, I said goodbye to my dad and sister at the airport and boarded a plane.
Opening up today’s New York Times Connections and the first word I saw was SOULMATE and I just thought of my mother because if she hadn’t gotten sick causing me to change my trip date, we never would have met….❤️
Thoughts From The Passenger Seat 