Bashert came into my life in 1995. Sixteen years ago.
We met in college.
She was a young, brash, redheaded powerhouse who weaved her way into my weary world and breathed in new life. I was an older ghost who brought calm to her turbulent soul.
We both admit it was a rocky start. She thought I was weird and I thought she had issues. We were both right.
I barely spoke above a whisper and kept to myself. The result of years of imposed social separation and post traumatic stress.
Bashert didn’t know the meaning of personal space or the word no.
She kept after me, challenging me and pushing me back into the light. Some days I resented the hell out of her and some days I was grateful there was someone who actually could see me.
When we went on a school trip to D.C., I brought a crossword puzzle book to occupy myself on the long ride. She would have none of it. She kept up a nonstop conversation over those 500 or so miles. I had never met anyone quite like her.
Bashert became my first friend in 11 years.
We did the things friends do. I gave her rides in my car and she would buy me dinner. We took some classes together (She hated painting – my major track; I hated clay – her major track). We went to the movies and laughed, boy did we laugh.
Our friendship grew and developed over the next two years.
We had picked up the habit of parking in the downstairs parking lot and talking into the deep of the night. I think this is where the shift began.
In the spring of ’97 came the letter.
The letter that changed both of our lives forever.
She gave it to me and then ran. She said she didn’t want an answer.
As I read the letter, I couldn’t believe my eyes or heart. I couldn’t sleep that night. I called her at 4 in the morning. She picked up the phone before the first ring. We talked until daylight and time to go to school.
I answered the letter.
She laughs and says that we were dating long before I really was aware of it. I told you before I can be a bit dim witted about some things.
Apparently, I had been dating a professor and didn’t know that either. Guess I should have known something was up when the prof got so angry when she saw me with Bashert. Who knew?
Our courtship was full of laughter and silly things – talking crows, shadow puppets, playing hooky to the lake.
It felt incredible to play again. Bashert had brought joy back into my life, something that had been missing for a very long time.
We’ve been together as a couple now for 14 years. We had a commitment ceremony in 2002 with 50 of our closest friends. Our daughter gave us to each other.
There have been some some wonderful times, including the addition of a beautiful little boy and some tough times, but the sense that we were always meant to be together still pervades our relationship. That’s what bashert means – meant to be.
Someday we will have another wedding, with our friends and the authority of the state, but until then we shall remain as we are – fully committed and true to each other, married in soul and heart.
Happy anniversary, MaLea.