More Today than Yesterday

A trusted friend asked why I haven’t told my love story, my second-chance love story with Tim. First, let’s just get this awkward moment over with: I was married to a Tim, and now I live with a different Tim, but the latter is really my Original Tim. The Original Tim and I met at freshman orientation at Ithaca College. I spotted him as we rode in an elevator in makeshift bed-sheet togas on our way to an unsanctioned party. Typically I was attracted to the tall, dark, and handsome, and Tim was tall, blonde, and handsome with piercing blue eyes. I sized him up in the elevator feeling confident that college was going to be a whole lot of fun. (This is a sanitized version of what I was really thinking….)

Once freshman year was in session, we found ourselves enrolled in the same major and many of the same classes, including a large seminar where we sat in alphabetical order. Ahh, there is a God. Fate would cast Brodowski seated right next to Burke. As we would soon discover, that large seminar hall doubled as a movie theater on weekends, and on one of our dates we went to see the William Hurt and Kathleen Turner sizzler Body Heat; I don’t remember much about the movie except that it was HOT, HOT, HOT.

We dated on and off for the first couple years and then organically drifted apart and toward other people. We saw each other only in passing until we graduated in 1984, and then not again until 2012. I didn’t know anything about him, where he lived, or what he was doing. But I can tell you this: He had never faded from memory, just as most loves of any significance. I thought about him in flashes of remembrance whenever I heard the song, “Why Can’t I Forget about You?” by the Subdudes. Songs naturally invite us to put ourselves in the lyrics, and The Original Tim came to mind every time I heard that particular song:

The way I see it it's no sin
The way I held you in the dark
It was the right way to begin
Tell me why can't I forget about you 

That’s where Tim stayed, as a memory….

…Until, LinkedIn suggested—for the first time in 28 years—that I connect with him. The Ithaca College commonality finally caught the attention of some algorithm. Clicking on the link, there he was, even more handsome as a grown man. And I remembered it was his birthday coming up on July 19. The same age, he was coming up on his 50th milestone birthday, so I decided I would send him a connect request and wish him a happy birthday.

As Tim would tell it, he didn’t recognize my name because my last name (the name I took at marriage and built a career with) was completely unfamiliar to him. He did remember Anita from college and when he clicked on my name, there I was. He was shocked I had remembered his birthday; he wouldn’t have known that I have an uncanny memory for dates and names.

We took the connection over to Facebook, where I never would have found him even if I tried. On Facebook he has an alias name to award him a bit of privacy.

Facebook messages turned into phone calls. I remember the first one very distinctly. I took it sitting out on one of my chaise lounges under the Colorado stars. Extremely nervous, hearing his distinctly deep and sexy voice for the first time made me giddy like a schoolgirl. Where do you begin catching up on 28 years, starting in the present and working your way back or fast-forwarding from back then?

Living in Florida, Tim was unattached, divorced, and without kids, like me, except I was in Colorado. He had an Irish Setter; I had an English Setter. As we would discover many times over, it turns out we lived parallel lives. He and his ex-wife had even spent time living in upstate New York and had friends very near where I grew up. Imagine if I had run into him and his dogs in one of our familiar swimming holes.

That call was the first of many as we regularly communicated across distance via calls and frequent texts. A couple months into our continental flirting, Tim sent me a photo of a couple concerts tickets he had for Stevie Nicks. I didn’t look at them very closely, but I did love Stevie Nicks. He asked me on a lark if I was interested. I didn’t hesitate and said Yes (my motto whispering in my ear: “Say Yes to everything with the slightest possibility of happiness.”). Next thing I knew I was planning a trip to Florida to see Stevie Nicks with Tim. I had seen Stevie Nicks more in the 28 years of absence than Tim! My friends asked me if I had thought it through: What if he was a criminal or simply just a loser? My instincts told me to go, and our first visit was about a weeklong. He was working part-time as a teacher and part-time as a freelance sports videographer for professional and college sports. Was it pure coincidence that I’m an inveterate Boston Red Sox fan, and he was working Red Sox games while I was visiting? I took this as another sign. 

My heart was beating out of my chest as I deplaned and made my way to meet him in the airport. There he was holding a dozen roses, neither of us able to contain our ear-to-ear grins. (He had already been sending me regular bouquets making ordinary days extraordinary days.) We made it out to the garage and he opened the car door for me, a chivalry I wasn’t at all used to, and then it happened, the flowers were tossed into the car and there we were engaged in the most incredible kiss in the middle of the Tampa International Airport parking garage. Could this be real? This is how it feels to be really known, a connection to the past that only we share. Neither of us will ever forget that moment of pure magic.

We spent days bridging the past, comparing notes on our parallel lives. He showed me his world, which helped me to imagine him when we were apart. I returned to Colorado where I was still living in my house that had not yet sold, though it was on the market. I had started looking for another property closer to work, but something held me back, and perhaps that was another twist of fate. A few months later I was recruited elsewhere in Colorado to a new job in a new city, and setting down roots in a place with no memories of the past seemed like fertile soil to start anew. Miraculously, the house sold on the same day I moved out of it, another sign.

We rendezvoused in Washington, DC, in early November, and then Tim came out to Colorado for the first time right before Thanksgiving, and I got the chance to show him my world and the places I loved, just like he had done for me around St. Pete. We went to Estes Park/Rocky Mountain National Park, Breckenridge, a wonderful spa in Evergreen, Red Rocks, Boulder, and Denver. We saw Steve Winwood, the second of many concerts we would enjoy together.

What became obvious to me relatively quickly was just how little laughing I had done over the last three decades. Sure, I had plenty of laughs at work, with friends, and with family, but somehow we forgot how to laugh at home. This was new to me, an awakening. The little things that drove another person crazy made this person laugh: out loud, and not at me but with me. We woke up every day laughing and it was refreshing and necessary, both wanting more and more of that, please.

We carried on our relationship from a distance for almost two more years, seeing each other as often as we could: in Colorado or Florida, or rendezvousing in other places—Boston, Hawaii, or Italy and Croatia. In February 2014 after a visit to Florida, Tim said he was ready to be done with “the Countdowns.” We had this thing where every morning we would have a T-# of Days until we were together again. As a freelance videographer, he was portable, and he was willing to give up his regular network that often employed him—for Dolphins, Jaguars, Rays, Buccaneers, Lightning, Gators, or Magic games—and make Denver his new home base.

When he came out to visit for Easter 2014, I had been living in a rental house with my two dogs and two cats and was eager to be back in the housing market so that I wasn’t throwing money away on rent any longer. This time we looked for a house together, settling on the northern side of Colorado Springs, 16 miles from work for me, an easy 18-minute commute for the first time in my life, and easy access to the highway to get to Denver and the airport for Tim. 

Moving in together proved to be a fascinating experience, unpacking boxes side by side. We had the very same salad spinners, kitchen gadgets, and trinkets. Again, distant but parallel lives and choices.  

Our household was instantly harmonious, blending my animals with his queen, the Irish Setter Ceara. We dubbed her the Queen of Northgate Highlands, a nod to our neighborhood. Ceara is the only one left of the original blended pack, but we’ve added on to our family with two English Setters and orange tabby cat brothers.

Christmastime with Tim is extraordinarily special. This man has made me love it again, like I was a child. Nearly one-quarter of our basement is dedicated to decorations with multiple (yes, that’s right) trees, ornaments, decorations, and garland for inside and outside and mantelpiece. He makes our home absolutely breathtaking at holiday time, even invoking random notes from neighbors who compliment the twinkling fairytale vibe. He begins preparation on November 1, so we get to milk the magic in stages and for many, many weeks.

While Tim hasn’t gotten the regular Denver work he hoped for, he travels often, amassing miles that we use for our getaways. As he reminds me often, loyalty has its perks. Sometimes I have the thrill of going to one of his games where I see him courtside or along the sidelines, and it’s obvious he loves what he does and is extremely good at it. Oftentimes I can turn on the TV and find my love, with headsets on and camera in hand, by the score table or under the basket. In an extremely rare moment, we worked alongside each other when NBC was looking for an audio person to work sidelines. He volunteered me and before I had the chance to chicken out, there I was following game action alongside Tim. What a bonus it is that I love sports (having lived in Boston, one can’t escape the fever pitch of Red Sox Nation or Patriots Nation, Bruins or Celtics). I’m still working on my college sports enthusiasm, admittedly.

As a couple, we have quality time together as well as regular time apart, making each moment count when we are in the same place at the same time. We savor experiences of discovering new places together, either for the first time or what I call “rewriting the hard drive.” In the seven short years we’ve been together, we’ve amassed four scrapbook albums filled with “evidence” of memories, a nod to gratitude for fate bringing us together again. We take absolutely nothing for granted and jump at the chance to do or see new things. The highlight of our lives individually and as a couple was going on safari to Tanzania; what a soul-stirring adventure that was, and then one year later we went off to Angkor Wat, another trek so incredibly worth it. Whether it’s destinations in our own beautiful state of Colorado or nearby Las Vegas, New Mexico, San Francisco and Wine Country, Seattle, Jackson Hole, or Alaska, or further afield internationally, there is no one I rather be with than Tim. We’re simpatico and guaranteed to have a phenomenal time.  And how utterly special it is for us to get back to Ithaca occasionally, where it all began, now 39 years ago.

My jackpot in so many ways, my Original Tim is funny, goofy, brilliant, creative, an adventurous foodie like me, an even better photographer, loves dogs, and is an easy going, sweet, and affectionate man. Bonus points: Did I mention that he actually likes to do grocery shopping, laundry, and vacuuming? Most admirably, he has my back and loves me in spite of my many foibles; likewise, I am fiercely protective of him and rally for him/with him whenever under attack. Like all relationships, we have things to deal with: disappointments, challenges or hurdles, but we endure those with love, knowing firsthand that life and love are fleeting. There are no absolutes; there is only the present. Everything eventually changes, time proving this over and over again.

Our theme song and our ringtone for each other’s phone call is the song, “I love you more today than yesterday.” Even if we have already lived our best lives, our best moments, how fortunate are we to have found this rare second-chance at love together again, at last.

More Today than Yesterday, Spiral Starecase

I don't remember what day it was
I didn't notice what time it was
All I know is that I fell in love with you
And if all my dreams come true
I'll be spending time with you

Every day's a new day in love with you
With each day comes a new way of loving you
Every time I kiss your lips my mind starts to wander
And if all my dreams come true
I'll be spending time with you

Oh, I love you more today than yesterday
But not as much as tomorrow
I love you more today than yesterday
But, darling, not as much as tomorrow

Tomorrow's date means springtime's just a day away
Cupid, we don't need ya now, be on your way
I thank the lord for love like ours that grows ever stronger
And I always will be true
I know you feel the same way too

Oh, I love you more today than yesterday
But not as much as tomorrow
I love you more today than yesterday
But only half as much as tomorrow

 Every day's a new day, every time I love ya
Every way's a new way, every time I love ya
Every day's a new day, oh, how I love ya