There’s no secret that I’ve spent many years of my life relating to the fictional character of Bridget Jones. In truth, many of us girls can, but mine goes a little deeper (and if you knew me many years ago, you’d know this to be true). There’s always been a line that’s stuck with me, throughout life. It’s when she says:
“I’m still looking for something more extraordinary than that.”
That’s resonated with me for a very, very long time. Every time I’ve been disappointed by someone, I’ve come home to that line, and consolingly convinced myself that I’m just searching for that extraordinary thing. That I’m worth that very thing. It’s hard, at times, especially when you’re alone, it’s 2am, and you cannot sleep because you have no idea where your life is going. We’ve all been there.
I realised, more recently in my life, that the extraordinary thing that we all look for (because we are all looking for it, even if we don’t admit to it), is more than just an action. It’s a constant. The extraordinary thing should be a way of life, a way of meaning and a way of intent. The extraordinary thing does not have to take on the form of some grand gesture, but it can also live in the every day. It’s in the little things.
Shmooshy and I started off much like an interesting conversation. A giggle, a flirt. Harmless enough. To be honest, at that point, I wasn’t looking for more, nor expected more.
And then came the unexpected surprise of the post-it note. You all know about that piece of stationery.
And, since that funny, wonderful evening by my gate, sewn together with kisses, there has been the extraordinary thing, every day.
Perhaps one of the first extraordinary things was, one Saturday morning, I awoke at ten am, and immediately went into a flat panic. Why was I only waking up NOW!? Where was my kid!?! What is going on!?!…I shouldn’t have worried. She and Shmooshy were cuddled up on the lounge floor, playing and talking. He’d awoken before me, and taken care of her so that I could sleep in.
And it’s been like that, all the way through. I’ve been wooed, I’ve been comforted. I’ve been able to share all my secrets with someone I love. He is with me at every important event, he held my hand all the way through losing my mother. He celebrates my kid’s every success – no matter how small it may be, it’s big to him. He dances with me while we wait for dinner, and doesn’t care who sees us. We’ll dance anywhere and it doesn’t matter. I can rely on him, and I rest in the soft comfort of his love.
I can pick through our chronology and select these little moments, where the extraordinary thing has been the daily life of us. As we’ve progressed, moved forward and laughed our way through the sad days, the extraordinary thing has not diminished. As it was with the first post-it note, I’m still thoroughly awed every single day. I’m awed by the easy, stands-by-me-always love. It’s sincere, and thorough. We’ve had our share of disagreements – who doesn’t? But even those are done through love. It’s more about conversation and compromise, than it is senseless fuming.
And then, just as the extraordinary thing is the every day love we are so lucky to have, he surprises me still. Like, this weekend, when he whisked me away to my second-favourite place in the world and made sure we got spoilt like never before. He did so much behind the scenes to make this surprise a completely speech-stealing moment for me. I’m still dumbfoundedly trying to put the words together. I hope he knows it meant the stars and all the planets to me. I know he knows he means all the stars, planets and galaxies to me.
Then my thoughts turn to that beautiful daughter of mine. The metamorphosis of her personality is both age and home-related. Sure, she’s always been a generally happy child, but the evolution of her character over the last two years is evident to anyone who looks at her. Her self-confidence and ability to trust people (only those who pass her muster, mind you :P) has expanded. She’s a proud, self-assured child, who is about ready to spread her wings into the world of big school.
I owe so much of her evolution to his presence. I cannot thank him enough for it, every day. I’ve watched her grow from a drawing-little-shapes-in-only-one-colour person to creating artworks full of colour, life and joy. If you still don’t get me on this one, I’ll explain. A long time ago, when drawing people, she would only draw one or two. Nowadays, she asks for extra paper so that she can include everyone in her family.
That leads me to family, indeed. The sting that life gave me, of feeling like an orphan…feeling parentless and living life without being able to just pick up the phone or hug them. That sting is significantly assuaged by the welcoming arms of his family. His funny, warm, wonderful family. My kid and I aren’t invited guests, we’re family, and that’s how it is.
I’ll end with this line, from another movie I love very much – Juno. It goes like this:
“In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person will still think the sun shines out your ass. That’s the kind of person that’s worth sticking with.”
And you know, I have that. I have that in abundance. I’ve had two full years of it and I’m going to carry on having it for as long as life allows me to.
Happy Anniversary, Shmooshy. Love you like cows love to moo.