Mr. C. and I have not had a traditional courtship (does anyone say that anymore?). As the readers of this blog know, he was randomly reading blogs on WordPress one night in September 2007 (was it a dark and stormy night in Florida, I wonder?). He read one of my posts that struck a chord with him, left a comment, and the rest is history. We corresponded in writing, fell in love with each other before we even met face-to-face, eloped in March 2008, and it wasn’t until October of that year before we were actually living together. Unorthodox and unconventional, and yet we fell in love through our letters, which is old-fashioned, especially in the times we currently live in. Who has time to fall in love anymore?
As in any marriage, we have our struggles, we are not blissful 24/7. Our courtship was old-fashioned, but our daily life is modern: we get to work for a living, we get to raise teenagers, we get to enter mid-life with all of its attendant aches and pains. There are many fluctuations in our life together: our moods, my weight, his luck on poker night with the guys. Three years in, and we are still learning things about each other, as I suspect we will be for the rest of our lives. I am reserved and serious, even in private; he LOOKS reserved and serious (because he’s tall, and his silvery locks give him the air of being distinguished), but really he isn’t (reserved and serious, I mean). We’ve both had to make compromises in that respect; he agrees to hold back on the PDA, and I agree to hold his hand in public.
Holding hands is not something I remember doing in my past lives. What I DO remember is the sting I felt at my son’s soccer game, maybe a year after I had separated from his father. His father attended the game with his new bride-to-be. The three of us were sitting together on the sidelines, cheering and chatting, being very cordial with each other. At one point I glanced over and saw him gently take her hand in his, and they remained that way, holding hands in public, while I was thankful for having worn sunglasses, as they did more than protect my eyes from the sun in that moment. This was not a gesture I could remember him doing with me. It just goes to show you that when things are not meant to be, they are not meant to be.
But when they ARE meant to be…….
Mr. C. has a way of knowing what’s good for me and making me do it whether I like it or not. Like eating popcorn at the movies instead of smuggling in something “healthy”, or suggesting I take time to visit with my out-of-town family, or holding hands in public….. Because although holding hands with him in public feels very natural, it did not come naturally for me. Mr. C. is more of a “What you see is what you get” kind of person: straightforward, honest, happy-go-lucky, glass-half-full. Me? Not so much. Nor is holding hands an automatic gesture that I extend to him; for him, as soon as we exit the car, the house, the store, he holds out his hand to me and waits while I fiddle with my purse and my keys and straighten myself out. With one hand in his pocket, the other extended out to me in mid-air, he is patient, waiting for the woman he loves to finally put her hand in his and walk with him.
I can learn to love you. That’s what holding hands means. Every time we do it, Mr. C. and I are relinquishing the selves that everyone else sees, and we turn to each other and give trust. Three years later, he and I are still marvelling at how sweet and new our love can be. It came upon us so suddenly, and yet it takes its time to reveal the true joys of being committed to each other. It’s love in the slow-life lane, and I am warmed by the gradual dawning of how holding his hand, in public, brings a special innocence and trust to our relationship. Much like those beautiful letters we wrote to each other, in the beginning. Back then, we were apart and could not hold hands, and so our words took over. Now, we hold hands like children, facing the same direction, allowing patience and trust to intertwine and solidify us.
If you were to ask Mr. C. why he likes to hold my hand, he would say with a grin: “Because it makes me happy….you don’t mind that I feel happy, do ya?”. See what I mean? Straightforward, honest, happy-go-lucky……but it would have made for a very short post 
Love,
Chantal xoxoxo
