I’ve made a lot of bad decisions in my life. I’ve filed most of them away and only occasionally pull one out as a personal testimonial if needed. Scars have a way of making a point. Good decisions do as well, though sometimes it takes a while to become evident.
The best decision I ever made, started with a day full of bad ones. For one thing, I cheated on my girlfriend. This is always a bad decision. I’ll own that. I told her I was going over to “some friends place to watch movies.” I’m sure she suspected otherwise, but I didn’t care. I stuck to my story and was off.
A few hours later I was across town in another girl’s apartment. I found myself sitting on the floor, looking into the eyes of a young woman who knew the score, and didn’t like it. She had the courage to challenge me, while still holding my hand. She was wise enough to require me to make a decision, and let me know that this would be the first night of our relationship or our last.
The choice was mine.
I don’t know how long I thought about it, but the decision came to me in bright bold font. Kiss her. I did. I thought I was done making bad decisions.
Not so.
It was easy to coast along, living together, instead of getting married. It was easier for me anyway. She was withering inside. I figured there would always be plenty of time. Why rush? But on a beautiful Thursday afternoon, my pitiful indifference was interrupted by the sickening crunch of a Saturn coupe being bent in half by a half-ton truck.
The car spun around in a cloud of glass, smoke, and blood. A few minutes later, an ambulance was taking away that courageous young lady I loved, while I and my blood-sprinkled shirt were being given a citation for making another bad decision.
She still bears the scars and deals with the ankle damage I caused that day. But she gave me something too.
Later that night I was sitting on the tile floor, helping her take a painful bath, and was overwhelmed. I’d almost lost the only thing that really mattered to me, and I’d squandered my days with her up to this point.
Once again, it was time to make a decision. Once again, it was crystal clear.
As I delicately pulled tiny pieces of glass out of her ears, and hair, I asked her to marry me. If you ask her, she will probably tell you that out of her drug-induced stupor she said yes.
I still keep a small piece of fabric from the T-shirt I used to stop her bleeding that day; a personal memento to hammer home this piece of wisdom: never put off your heart’s desire, because in a split second, the opportunity could be gone forever.
A footnote to that first kiss. It was twenty-two years ago today.
Happy anniversary my Goldberry, my friend, my love.