saying goodbye (again)

As we explored my Grandma's hometown, I saw her all around me: in the expression on an old woman's face, in the butcher shops and bakeries, in people's mannerisms, in the abundance of food and wine. Knowing that the city looks totally different now than it did in 1926 when Gram left for America didn't at all take away from the sense that I was walking where she walked. While the streets and buildings aren't the same ones she saw, the mountains are. The ocean is. I smile even now, just thinking about being where my Gram spent the first thirteen years of her life. I hope she was smiling from Heaven at the sight of Niel and I, hand in hand, walking the streets of her beloved Palermo.

Our last day there, we walked along the pier with a dried rose in our hands. At my Grandma's funeral, Niel saved the rose that was intended to be tossed atop her grave along with the rest of the family's. He brought it back to Africa and then to Italy. We stood together on the pier for a long while; I cried as I held the rose in my hand.

And then I let it go. I tossed it gently into the water. Niel held me and we cried together.

In those moments I was so overwhelmed by both how much I miss my Gram and how much I love my husband. Niel's thoughtfulness to even think about doing this made me feel so loved, and seeing tears stream down his face left me confident of how deeply he loves me.

Walking away from that pier, I felt more peace than I had in a long time...

just a girl

Back when Niel and I were engaged, the Notting Hill movie soundtrack was one of very few CDs I owned. Since we were going budget-style on our wedding, we supplied all the music for the big event. Consequently, many of the songs from Notting Hill were played at our reception.

One night, months before our wedding, Niel and I drove to town to use the ATM. As usual, Notting Hill was in the CD player. In Harrismith, they pretty much roll up the streets at 5:00, so town was fairly empty. As Niel waited in the car while I walked up to the ATM machine, he opened the car windows and blared 98°'s I Do (Cherish You) from the soundtrack. We both laughed really hard as he belted out the words.

Needless to say, our first dance together at our wedding was to that song.

Notting Hill was on TV yesterday while we were holed up inside our rental house at the lake (it was freezing outside!). I hadn’t seen it in years but it still made me laugh. And my favorite part, as always, was when Julia Roberts walks back in to the travel book shop towards the end of the movie and says, “I’m just a girl standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”

I looked over at Niel and my eyes whispered the very same thing to him.

crazy love

I had to bring my engagement ring to the jewelers' in New York for a cleaning and a li'l fixing. While we were there, Niel asked the saleswoman about upgrading my stone to a larger carat size. (!) She jumped into high-gear and showed us a gorgeous diamond. Niel was all for it, but I told him I thought we should wait due to economic reasons. Ms. Jeweler leaned over the glass counter. "He wants to do it and you're saying no? You're crazy!"

My heart swelled in that moment. Not because I was proud to be called crazy, but because I am so blessed to have a husband who wants to love me in crazy ways, just because.

And I was so glad we left the store without another anal incident.

toothpaste, travel mugs, and wedding bells

The only questions I remember were about toothpaste and our kitchen. After we got married, my application for permanent residency in South Africa was expedited. Having a South African husband put me into the fast-track category. But before I'd be granted permanent residency, the government wanted to make sure I wasn't faking our relationship just to stay in the country. They wanted proof that we were really married.

It was like a scene from a movie.

Niel and I were interviewed separately by government officials. They asked us questions that would supposedly help them determine whether or not Niel and I had known each other as long as we said we had.

I was seated across from a large man behind a desk. I was nervous, fidgeting; I felt like I was on The Newlywed Game Show. Things went smoothly until the kind sir asked, "What is your favorite toothpaste?" I started to sweat. Do I answer with what I'd really say or with what I think Niel might say? I mumbled something about my favorite being an American brand that isn't in South Africa. "Just answer the question," he snapped. "Crest...?" I said, with a question mark at the end. He nodded and moved on.

Phew.

I was asked to describe what our kitchen looked like. I'm way more detail-oriented than Niel is, so I wasn't sure how Niel might have answered that question. I gave vague, general details first---the guy's face remained expressionless---and then I started to give more specifics. When I told him that the top of our cabinets were lined with Starbucks travel mugs, he interrupted me and told me that would be enough. I smiled, and wished I could high-five Niel right then and there.

Needless to say, I received my permanent residency a few months later.

And if we were quizzed with the same questions today, I guarantee we'd both still get them right.

lost in translation

I met my South African husband eleven years ago. I was working at a missions organization in Texas; Niel was going to host our first team to South Africa. Even though it wasn't my department, I was asked to be involved in the planning of the trip. When Niel came into town to go over final logistics---his first time to America---he spent quite a bit of time hanging out in my office.

I'm a snacker---always have been and always will be---and I had a drawer full of snacks in my desk. One of my favorites to stock up on was animal crackers. Mainly because they were cheap. And came in big bags.

On one of Niel's many visits to my office, I offered him a handful. It was his first time to ever see or eat an animal cracker. I don't know if he was more intrigued by the animal-shaped more-cookie-than-cracker snack sensation or the fact that I had a king-sized bag of them in my desk drawer.

A while later Niel came back into my office. He sauntered over to my desk, with his stunning blue eyes, wavy blond hair pulled back in a pony tail, and heart-stopping accent.

"Can I have some more pet biscuits?"

I burst out laughing. "It sounds like you're asking for a dog treat. They're called animal crackers," I told him as I gave him another handful.

Even now, after almost eight years of marriage, things often get lost in translation between us---sometimes comical, sometimes frustrating. But I wouldn't trade my pet-biscuit-eating man for anyone in the world.