Love story

It's a love story.
And it's better than Hollywood, because Hollywood never had character development this deep. Hollywood never had battles for us to face like the ones we face on a daily basis. And they never will, because nothing can compare to the depth of reality.
When Lydia and I first met, we barely knew anything about each other. To me, she was the somewhat quiet, but fun girl that I knew from Boardwalk. I was the boy that brought a young man with cerebral palsy by Boardwalk and Park Place every day to hang out and walk the Mall. Parts of our story from there are kind of a sort of fairy tale, to be sure, and I love it. It gives a magical touch to our life as a couple.
The drama that surrounds you when a twenty-seven year old guy falls in love with a barely eighteen year old girl is predictable, but it bound us together and made us stronger. The details of how we finally became reacquainted, in a church that I randomly decided to visit, on a day I almost didn't go, speak to me of the magical, miraculous goodness of a Divine Being that has a plan for my life, and it doesn't always match up with everyone else's preconceived notions.

But if you've been following our story, you already know about the magic from previous blog posts. I'm not here to muse over the arcane; I'm here to talk about the mundane stuff. The stuff you'll never see in a Hollywood production or a Hallmark feature because it doesn't make good drama.
I'm talking about the patient, but difficult task of learning to fully open up and trust again after a life full of broken relationships sown with distrust. I'm talking about, not finding a sense of the miraculous in everyday stuff, but just learning to enjoy the simple things in life, like sitting on the couch with your fiancée and doing nothing.
The learning to trust part is a task that isn't completed in an emotional two-minute scene on a Hollywood soundstage where the guy finally makes the "big decision" to just let go and everything turns around from there for the rest of the climactic finish. It's something that takes time, and a patient and understanding young woman. It's gradual, bit by bit.
I'm also talking about the arduous task of maintaining a relationship over six hundred miles of land, going for what seems like eternity longing for just a simple hug, or just to close your eyes and drink in the scent of her hair, but unable to because she's just that far away. I’m speaking of spending weekends hanging out with dear friends and wishing she were there to enjoy it with you.
I'm talking about learning that there actually is a girl out there that is perfectly content to sit on Skype and play solitaire with you all night, just so that we can enjoy being together. She's not concerned over whether I always have a laundry list of things to talk about; she just wants to be around me.
I'm talking about a woman who takes time to get to know my friends, not out of a sense of obligation, not because "I like him, and I better prove it by trying to understand his friends," such an attitude isn't truly interested in the guy. No, she gets to know my friends because they can be her friends, too. They aren't just "those weirdoes he hangs out with," they are cool people that she loves and appreciates just as much as I do.

It's all the little things; working out schedules that don't mesh well so we can have time to talk, to interact. Learning to work with each other in the so-called boring, everyday stuff that quickly becomes routine. Realizing you found someone that, like you, is perfectly ok with routine, as long as routine is with you. She doesn't have to be constantly entertained; it's a relationship, not a Hollywood special.

One of my favorite authors put it like this. The enjoyment of a thing is not just in the thing itself; it's in the memory of the thing.
A person can spend all their life wishing their relationship had all the magic and fast-paced adrenaline of those first few "getting to know you" months, but that stuff wasn't meant to last. It's an adrenaline rush for a reason, and wishing for it to be constant is going to cause burnout. But the memory of the thing; that is something you can hold onto. That you can latch onto, and someday, as soon as tomorrow, look back, share your memories, and say, "we did that together. We conquered that together." And then, you will smile at your accomplishments. It might have been something as mundane as comforting each other after a hard day or as amazing as a wonderful anniversary celebration, but they were memories you made, for better or worse.
These lessons learned, this love that was strengthened in the tough, mundane times, they are what make love last. Not the magic moments; those fade too quickly. Those magic moments are but respite from the mundane times, a time of relaxation to chill and make other types of memories.
Finding a, “sense of the miraculous in everyday life,” is not about doing heroic deeds every day. It is about understanding that the little things are what make life, life, and it’s about learning to enjoy those small things; all the small things.

Time and time again, Lydia has proven to me her determination and faithfulness; her determination to make things work, to be true to her promise to stand by me. And it's those little things that strengthen my love for her. Not the gifts and the laughter, those are but the sweet rewards of her love.
The things that strengthen our relationship are mundane; they're everyday. They are the things that most people would look at us and say, "You do what? Why bother?" that remind me how amazing she is, and how perfect for each other we are. It's sitting and just keeping each other on speakerphone while each does our own thing - prepare a D&D session, read a book, play mahjong. It's browsing Facebook with Skype running in the background so we can share whatever we come across on screen. It's being with each other, just to be there, not necessarily because we're providing any grand entertainment to one another, but because we just enjoy each other's company.
To me, that's magical.
That a girl could love someone with as much baggage as I have was unthinkable. For her to actually share common interests with me was unrealistic. And for us to actually hold the same goals and simple dreams in life, well, it's definitely a one-of-a-kind combination. To top that off with the fact she enjoys being around me, even if we aren't "doing anything" is endearing beyond the words I've just typed.
It is a love story. It is our love story. And we're sticking to it.