Who knows, it was probably all that Coke and hamachi.
Lynnette’s uncle received a ukulele for Christmas. Lynnette and I spent half-an-hour trying to tune it before realizing one of the tuning heads wasn’t working properly. Part of this process involved trying to collaboratively learn the immortal “Surf” by Ka’au Crater Boys. Perhaps you now understand exactly how non-local I am since I had to learn to play “Surf” at 34 years of age.
And I don’t know, something just happened. I sat there watching Lynnette hold and strum this ill-tuned uke, churning out noises that kind-of, sort-of, it’s-in-there-somewhere sounded like “Surf,” and I was hit with how beautiful she looked in that moment. I got this feeling in my stomach – maybe not butterflies, but those small white moths hovering around the tall grass at the edge of H2.
I find that I am fascinated with Facebook posts from my former students. It’s the only way I can see who they’ve become, you know? I like to see pictures of their travels, of key moments like graduation from college or getting a job, stuff like that. Most of all, though, I find that I literally and figuratively “like” pictures of them with their girlfriends/wives/children (the first class of students I taught are now about 28-years old, holy crap).
I think this is because finding the love of a good woman and starting a family with her was the best thing that ever happened to me. I think I just want that for every single person I know. I want them to find someone who gets them, who loves them unconditionally, who will know all of their stupid parts and still say that’s fine, but literally, and not in the way women like my own beautiful Lynnette use that’s fine. It’s the purest kind of happiness I know, and I guess I just want for everyone to have it, too. So guys, don’t be alarmed if I like a random photo of yours even though we haven’t spoken since the middle of last decade.
Kind of Awkward True Story: Sometimes when Lynnette and I haven’t engaged in the physical manifestation of our love in a while, I will make a remark like “I am teeming with emotion for you.” This is usually met with an “Oh, God” from Lynnette and possibly coupled with an eye-roll, and maybe partnered with “Get away from me.” And usually when I talk about teeming emotions, I mean “passion” and all of its unseemly cousins. But last night was different.
Looking at Lynnette grasp the uke kicked off one of those end-of-your-life-all-the-moments-of-your-life montages in my head. Maybe it was carry over from the night before when we kicked it old school, cuddling under a blanket on the couch. I don’t know. She was just sitting there and I got plowed by it and so I fumbled around with my phone to try to take a picture, but it’s not quite in there. As a man who prides himself on his logic and pseudo-intellect, It’s difficult for me to suffer magic. But that’s what this is. I have loved other women and none of them ever understood me the way Lynnette does. I have loved other women and none of them have ever made me feel like I got hit by an emotional truck just because she picked up a uke. I feel like I am going to spend the rest of my life trying to articulate all these emotions I’m teeming with.
I love you, Lynnette. Still and always.