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Love and dreams

October 8th, 2008 | 11 Comments | Posted in It's all about me, The wife and I

The classroom was on the top floor of a building that looked to me like it used to be an old auto repair shop or warehouse of some kind. The windows were that warehouse kind that are about 8 feet tall but frosted over so no light really comes through, just a misty sort of glow, and the lighting hanging from the open beam ceiling was the standard florescent kind and bathed everything in a cold blue light.

I looked around at the paint smears on the floor and the metal easels that had obviously seen better days and began to wonder if I had made the right choice leaving Seattle to chase a dream that I wasn’t even sure could be caught.  I wanted to be an artist, I wanted to make games, I wanted to figured out what I was doing with myself.

Since I was the only one in there I set my paint box down, grabbed an easel and plopped my pristine new canvas in place; it looked like it belonged there as much as I belonged at an anti-gun rally, or maybe an undergrad art college. I had no formal art training before I decided to jump on this ride. I took one continuing ed. drawing class, submitted my portfolio and, much to my surprise, was accepted to the number three art school in the country – the only one I applied to.

In my first day I had already intimidated a young punk rocker who tried show how cool he was by jumping into my face and screaming. I settled him right down by telling him I would break his face if he did that again. Even funnier as I set up my paints I looked up to see him coming in, turned out he’s a classmate of mine – well, so much for my “plays well with others” grade. Once again it looks like I’m the outsider looking in; everyone is younger than me by at least 15 years. I even heard one girl say under her breath “What’s he doing here? He’s too old for college.”

Wonderful

But then she came walking in. There’s something amazing about seeing the girl you know is ‘the one’ for the very first time, I remember very clearly that she was wearing overalls that were baggy on her and a blue bandanna to hold her hair back. Her painting gear had obviously seen quite a bit of use unlike my brand new, just out of the wrapper brushes and paint tubes that hadn’t even been cracked open.

I don’t remember how I did it, but somehow I managed to maneuver her to the easel next to mine and struck up a conversation. Through most of it I am sure that she thought I was nuts, and I’m sure she’s right but over the weeks we became friends and I would make her laugh on the days it looked like she might just want to cry from something going wrong in her life and she helped me with learning all the stuff about art that I didn’t know like how to mix colors and lay out a painting.

We were like this through sophomore year, helping each other and sometimes going to grab some lunch when our schedules allowed, but then junior year came around and I went to the media studies department and she went over to the fine arts building. I thought about her a lot during that time, but there was never time to get together and for some reason we had never gotten each others phone number. I honestly thought that she had moved on and I would never see her again but then I was coming out of class one day and there she was, sitting on a bench.

This time, I didn’t blow it. I asked her out and got her to say yes by not giving her a chance to say no. We started dating for real and not just lunch every once in a while. By the time our senior year ended I had decided that there was no way I was letting her go so I asked her to marry me.

She said no.

She didn’t think I was serious she said, I was just kidding around. It took three more tries which included flying her home to meet my parents and proposing to her at the top of the Sandia mountains before she finally said yes and that leads us to today, the day we got married. Three years ago today I stood at the altar and watched the most beautiful woman in the world walk down the aisle to me and say that she would be my wife.

Happy anniversary, hon, three years and it just keeps getting better and better.  Maybe I’ll never catch that dream I’ve been chasing, but even if I don’t I have you and that’s more than enough.