I look back on that year and...well, I can't laugh or anything, but...Maybe I can smile a bit. Since I turned sixteen, every year of my life has been more intense than the one before, and, you know, that's okay.
It's a progression, life I mean. Sometimes you stumble, sometimes you fall, roadblocks get in the way and sometimes you find yourself going off in wild, previously unimagined directions. And, I guess, for some people that's the worst thing that could ever happen to them, but for me...
Freshman year in college brought new ideas and new beliefs and even new beginnings. It also brought blinding, gut wrenching pain and suffering. But, in the end, I made it through. That old saying, 'what does not kill us, makes us stronger' sure applied. There were times I wanted to die. When I would actually manage to fall asleep I would dream of offering myself to vampires or running in front of a bus, anything to end the pain.
But, I didn't die, and the pain faded. Slowly, but it did fade. I smiled again, and laughed at jokes and...for a while, I thought I'd found someone new to share my life with.
Then, he returned.
My world turned upside again. I was upset and frustrated and love blinded, all over again.
Sometimes I can't believe that we managed to work through the pain over his leaving, to start a new with his return.
But, we did. I look around myself and see how well we did.
Dozens of faces, young and old, meet my old eyes and I sigh softly in joy. The youngest coos in his mother's arms as she jiggles him, and the oldest walks through the crowd to join me, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips.
My family--my children and grandchildren and great grandchildren-- all gathered to celebrate yet another milestone in my life.
"Happy Birthday, Willow," my husband murmurs and brushes his soft lips across my cheek. I lean into the kiss and feel his arm go around me. A tingle of pleasure warms me. Still, after all these years, all he has to do is touch me and I melt.
There's a tug on my skirt and I glance down at one of my six great-grandchildren. "Nana Willow, will you tell us the story again? The eskimo, canpe story?" She stumbles, as always, over the word 'canape,' but it doesn't stop her. "The one where Grampa Oz says you have the sweetest smile?"
I smile that smile and lift her onto my lap as I make myself comfortable on the couch, my loving husband beside me. "Well, it all started many, many years ago, when I was just a bit older than you, with hair the same color as yours." I smile mischievously and look at my soul mate. "Grampa Oz, on the other hand, had multi colored hair at that time. I never knew what it would be from one day to the next."
Brushing my hand over his nearly bald hair, I giggle as everyone chuckles and he grins.
Sixty years have done nothing to diminish his smile either, but then, when you smile every day of your life, the muscles don't atrophy, and, even though your body inevitably ages, you stay young inside.
He makes me feel young.
With every look, with every touch. To him, I am eternally sweet seventeen and never been kissed.
To me, he is always...
My Oz.
End