Three best days
Not 28 years ago, but I don’t have photos from that time.
Twenty-eight years ago on the MLK holiday I was driving from Nebraska to Iowa City, on my way home from California after visiting Randy and having the 3 best days of my life. On the drive I was facing the confusion and misery of ending my miserable marriage and figuring out what to do next in my life, and I was so overcome that I stopped at the Jesse James hotel to try to get some sleep.
After talking for hours at the reunion where we re-met Randy and I exchanged email addresses - this was a long time ago so it’s surprising that I even had one. We had been corresponding via email throughout December and I continued to think that this was something too special to let go but agonized over ending my marriage and the pain it would cause my daughters.
[Insert here long story of a miserable marriage to a man I didn’t even like and a depression so deep I couldn’t eat, sleep, or work on my dissertation.]
A friend offered me the use of her apartment near SF while she was in Hawaii and I was supposed to work on the blasted dissertation. Against my better judgment, because I knew I would see Randy, I went because I was desperate to do something to relieve the abject misery of my life. And I couldn’t think of anything else to do.
When I got there, Randy offered to cook me dinner, and it was the most bizarre non-date I ever had. He hadn’t given me his apartment number so I had to go look at the mailboxes to figure out where to go, and when he opened the door the first thing he did was make fun of my belt. Then - for reasons I don’t understand - we had to go to Cost Plus to buy one of those paper hanging lamps, then to the grocery store for dinner ingredients. Note: when I invite someone to dinner I have the ingredients on hand.
We cooked dinner together - I insisted on a salad to go with the bizarre turkey thing he was making - and we ate and told stories. At some point - maybe I was getting ready to leave? - he hugged me and I said, I’m not letting go. It was an odd thing to say - I wasn’t telling him that I wasn’t letting him go, I was noticing to myself that I wasn’t letting go. As though I didn’t have a choice - which maybe I didn’t.
I’m not too clear about what happened next, but we spent the next three days together and - I feel the need to repeat this - they were the three best days of my life.
I’ve been trying to write this entry for days, but I was just too sad to keep writing. The most positive thing I can say is that those days gave me the strength to move beyond the things that were making me so unhappy. But god I wish he were here for me to share this memory with.