I Am A Lucky Girl

My Golden Haired Knight in Shining Armor 1994

I graduated high school in 1993, still feeling very much the outside commune kid with an uncertain future looming ahead. I had an on again off again unhealthy relationship with a boy who had a problem with substance abuse and was verbally abusive. It’s no wonder I was drawn to such a situation, having not had much of a positive male role model in my life. So I guess you could say, while I knew I was responsible for the direction of my own life, it could have easily gone the wrong way . I could have been a welfare mom on food stamps, with of half a dozen children and living in a mobile home park. (No offense to anyone who lives in this situation, it’s just not something one chooses intentionally).


But that was not to be. I remember the very moment I met my husband. We were at the same party, the kind all the high school kids went to in our rural area, out in deserted barns, remote wooded lots, and any place we might avoid discovery from our parents and/or the law. This particular party was on the river under a bridge. (How cliché )


There I was, keg cup in one hand cigarette in the other when around the corner comes my commune brother (meaning we were not related, he just lived in the commune with me) telling me he wanted me to meet someone. I look up; and there he was, a beautiful boy with long curly blond hair, blue eyes, bright smile and a tye dye T-shirt. Oh god, not a hippie wanna be! I wanted the captain of the football team type, as you can imagine I had just about enough of hippies. But this boy, he made me take notice and there was just something about him I couldn't ignore.

But I tried! He was on his exploratory young man’s journey and thought the commune was just the place for him. So there he was, firmly ensconced in my everyday life and almost immediately professed his undying love for me. No way, I am not interested in hippie boys thank you very much! But no amount of rejection could shake this boy. He flat out told me he was different, and I was the one for him. And so I wondered…

His sweet demeanor and persistence eventually wore me down and I thought I had just better give this guy a chance. The first time we decided we were officially dating was Valentine’s Day 1994. He brought me a single rose to the shabby little shack where I still lived with my mother, (whom he had also woo-ed with his charm and determination, she could hardly stand to think I might reject his advances). With this one small gesture, we stepped out onto our path together and we have never looked back. 

So this Valentine’s day, I remember you my love! 19 years later and I am every bit as in love with you now as I was then, thank you for not ever giving up on me, and being my “home” every day. Thank you for supporting me, and having faith in me, and picking me up when I fall. There is no one in the world who knows me like you do and I am eternally grateful to be able to walk through life by your side. I love you.