Back when I was 14 years old, in the summer between 9th and 10th grade, a strange thing happened.
Usually, I spent my summers on my grandfather’s ranch near
Steamboat Springs, Colorado. I was typically riding 4-wheelers, fixing fences,
moving cattle, cooking ranch-style meals, washing a ton of dishes, hanging with
my cousins, and generally being a hoodlum.
But that particular summer, a friend decided to end her
life. My parents came back to the ranch to bring me home for the service. I was
supposed to be gone for several more weeks because they were completely
remodeling the 1,100-square-foot box we lived in. But I was home.
The service was strange. Helping the friends around me
through the tragedy was also bizarre at that age. Being home in the summer with
no plans felt like a foreign country.
I was lonely and struggling. I was thrust into helping my
friend’s brother navigate her tragic passing while I was still trying to figure
out how to process it myself. The entire world around me felt less predictable…
and, if I’m being honest, a lot more like adult life than I was truly ready for
in that moment.
I was desperately seeking ways to make life feel normal
again. Carefree, like all those summer days before it. So I took my whirlwind
world to the net. It always seemed to help.
One day… a turd-brown Subaru came honking down the road
toward the neighbors’ house. I heard the whiny “beep beep” before my eyes
witnessed the spectacle.
I was outside shooting hoops by myself because, back then,
we didn’t have phones and all the other things kids these days use to entertain
themselves. I recognized the vehicle. It belonged to a friend of my best
friend’s big sister. He went to Florence High School, a town just a few miles
down the road. The neighbor girls were friends with this kid, too.
But they weren’t home that day.
The Subaru backed out of their driveway and came back toward
my house to ask if I knew where they were. Out stepped this cute boy, several
years older than me, riding shotgun.
He had a funny East Coast accent. He was mouthy and said
whatever was on his mind. I can still remember exactly what he was wearing: the
flannel shirt that probably needed to find its way to the trash can, the
trucker hat, the way his wavy hair fell just past his chin, and the way his
lips curled around his devious smile.
The 14-year-old girl in me was very curious. He was
something I hadn’t experienced just yet in my young life.
That MOUTH!
I wasn’t sure if I should be appalled or laugh.
I chose to laugh.
He was ridiculous.
Jeremiah’s dad and Jason’s dad had been best friends in New
Jersey back in the day. Jay came out to Colorado for the summer in hopes of
keeping him out of trouble back East.
What 14-year-old me didn’t know, when that Subaru pulled
into her driveway, was that she had just met someone who would become a source
of enduring, unconditional love. A true friendship that would stand the test of
time. A human being who would stand beside her in the thick of it, casting
stupid dad jokes with a Jersey appeal. Someone she could always laugh with,
even when life was crazy.
After he left, we talked to each other every day. Probably
drove my parents nuts.
He sent my mother and me flowers that first Christmas, and
it became a tradition every year until it started hurting the feelings of
either my love interest or his. He moved back to Colorado during my senior year
of high school. We had big plans.
But when he got here… I chickened out.
Curating my entire life at age 17 seemed so absurd.
He came out here again one Christmas to spend time with me
and my family. It became clear that our relationship was very platonic. But
also, outright enjoyable.
He has popped up in my life, or I in his, during major
turning points.
I remember when my oldest son was born. I was tired of
trying to call everyone to spread the news about his medical condition and
interventions. I was in my mid-twenties and scared shitless. I wasn’t entirely
confident in my skills as a mother, and I had little support from his
progenitor.
I decided to send out emails instead. Emotionally, it was an
easier task.
Jason called immediately after receiving the first update
and filled in with the emotional support I wasn’t receiving from my baby daddy.
It was never sexual. He just wanted to make sure I was okay while I was falling
completely apart.
I did not have the strength to get through that moment
alone.
Of course, I had my parents and friends. But when you
understand that someone completely unconnected to you by blood can give that
much of a shit about what you’re facing, it changes your heart.
I didn’t feel so alone. It helped me feel like I could do
all the things that having a sick baby meant.
We have fought our way through other love relationships on
both sides, trying to get our significant others to understand the value of
this relationship. They never have.
I always caused problems on his side of the fence, and he
always caused problems with EVERY relationship on my side of the fence.
I have been forever grateful for this relationship that came
into my life completely by accident.
For the past two years, both of us have been going through
it. We’ve talked a big game about finally getting the band back together, and
this time, he finally bought a ticket.
Thirty-five years of friendship… and for the last four days,
we’ve done nothing but talk smack and hang out. We visited with my parents.
Drove to a few places around Colorado he had been to and a few he had never
seen before. Had some silly phone calls with his mom, who is beside herself
that we are hanging out.
We laughed so hard we could barely breathe. We cried a
bunch, too. Life has been hard.
We shared some tips for getting through the alone times. We
thought about what it might look like to just let life be and enjoy each other
while traveling. We made a pact to ride out this glorious friendship, no matter
what.
Obviously, 35 years ago, the Universe felt it was important.
Otherwise, we wouldn’t know each other.
I just dropped him off at the airport and have nothing but a
grateful heart.
This full-grown woman had to call her mom on the way home.
Otherwise, she would have been driving with her eyeballs leaking all the tears.
Did I know at 14 what that boy would mean to me today?
Do you know how lucky I am to know that not all men are
unsafe, unkind, self-absorbed, or carrying ill intentions? A man who believes
me to be worthy?
He’s been with me through all of it.
All. Of. It.
I feel so fortunate to know this kind of love.
No judgment. No wishing I were something I’m not.
He still sees me as the girl in her driveway shooting hoops.
And I still see that boy with the funny accent, trucker hat, curly hair, and
sass mouth.
I feel like the realization that I’ve never really had to
prove myself to everyone, that I’ve never really had to earn love, that I’ve
never had to feel alone or like I was never enough… has always been there in
this relationship. I just never took the time to understand it until these last
few days.
I often wonder why everything else has to be so hard. Why do
we make our relationships so hard?
The answer, my friends, is that it doesn’t have to be so
hard.
I will laugh for 30 more years over the last four days. I
will feel loved from afar. I will feel like enough… worthy of all that I want
out of my life.
I am such a lucky girl.
And I pray he feels that way, too. I hope he knows how much
he means to me, but I vow to tell him every chance I get.
I hope for you… that you have something just as radical in
your life. I hope you fight for it, because it is highly unusual. And I hope
you cherish it.
Much love, Jason… always and forever.
