All Because of One Day at the Beach

"Somehow we found each other

Somehow we have stayed

In a state of grace..."

–Rush, Ghost of a Chance

Picture by my friend Doug Ross

I never remember our exact exchange, but the visceral memory of that moment is permanently etched in my mind and my heart. 

"What did you say to me again? 'So, do you always come here alone?'"

It's the morning of our 23rd anniversary of when we met. 

"No, Sweetie, I asked, 'Why are you always here alone?,'" my wife Amy says and smiles. 

"Right," I say. "I always remember it differently." 

"Oh, it's your anniversary? Happy Anniversary," says Bryce our youngest. 

"Happy anniversary," says Beatrice our oldest.

"Why does your anniversary have to be on a Sunday?" asks Bryce.

"Because that's where the date fell this year," Amy says. 

"Oh."

"Thank you both. That's why we went to the water yesterday, to read our vows," I say.

"Oh."

Kids, I think. 

The day before our anniversary we did go to the water to read our wedding vows, something we do every year (our wedding date being on the same day when we met, just six years later). Some of the parking lots near the lighthouse and close to the beach where we met are closed due to COVID-19, and the ones that are open are always full. We parked down the street and walked toward the beach where we met all those years ago. Beatrice rode her skateboard, Bryce had on her roller blades and we had our dog Jenny in tow. 

It was a lovely afternoon as it usually is in October where we live. Windier than usual, but still lovely. The girls sat on a bench as we looked out over the beach where we met October 11, 1997. The waves kept time with our vows and the sun lit up the sea...

Amy and I had been coming there alone for weeks during that El Niño late summer into October. The weather was beautiful and the ocean much warmer than usual. I'd hang out closer to the water and write in my journal, and Amy would sit in her orange beach chair against the cliff wall. I noticed her the first time I went down to the beach, shortly after I had moved to Santa Cruz, but never approached her. I was in the early stages of a separation that would ultimately lead to divorce (something that would challenge our relationship early on), and had no interest in approaching her, or anyone at that time.

Then one day I looked up from my journal and there were two sun-tanned legs in front of me. I looked up higher, and there she was, awash in sunshine, wearing a two-piece bathing suit and a baseball hat. She was so beautiful (still is), and it was the baseball hat that actually wowed me more than the suit (okay, a close second). I had never known a woman who could wear a baseball hat so well. 

"Why are you always here alone?" she asked me.

Every time I think of that moment, I remember not responding immediately. Not because I didn't want to respond. I just wasn't sure how to. Her question was confident and direct, and at that time, I wasn't so confident and direct, and again, wanted to be alone. Seconds passed. Whatever strange and exciting connection I felt in that moment was already slipping away. The weight in her legs shifted, indicating she was about to walk away. The universe taunted me and my silence. C'mon, Kevin, I thought. You'd better saying something.

"What exactly did I say to you again in response?" I ask Amy.

"'Because I like to,'" she says.

"That's really what I said?"

"Yes, but you can make something up if you want," she says and smiles

"Ha. No, I want to get it right. But 'because I like to'? Subpar, Kevin."

"Well, that's what you said."

"I love you, Amy."

"I love you, too. Happy Anniversary."

That was only the beginning back then. Since then our journey has brought us to today, 23 years in the making. We've had some amazing experiences together, and travels, and had two daughters along the way. We've also had our own challenges, too, and throughout it all it's been a loving journey of forgiveness empowered by grace. We are grateful for each other and our family every single day, awash in love and hope, and we choose us, always. And all because of one day at the beach.

"There's a new sun arisin'

(In your eyes) I can see a new horizon

(Realize) That will keep me realizin'

You're the biggest part of me..."

–Ambrosia, Biggest Part of Me

Other "Days of Coronavirus" posts:

Awash in Love and Hope

The Building Blocks of Healthy Lives

The Part Where All Lives Matter

The Clarity Bridge for Homelessness

Stars to Shine

Loving Community Wide Shots Abound

A Foundation Worth Saving

This Hit-And-Run Thunderstorm

Help Prevent the Back-to-School Bullying

Memories Now and to Come

Especially Our Kids

This Old "No" Guy Jedi

Choose Eyes of Love

The Morning Work

We Shared Blue Genes

Agree to Disintegration

The Teacher Parade

All These Things Can Lead To Grace

Our Freedom Is Always Welcome

A Well of Strength

This Bad History

No Shirts, No Shoes, No Problem

The Iceberg Underneath

The Healing Hope We Can Give

Donate Your Date Nights and Help Feed Families

About All The Things

Dad, Our Family's Computer Guy

The Newest Normal

Where Our Troubles Are All The Same

This Is The Life

When There's Nowhere to Go

Jenny, Jenny, Who Can I Turn To

Of All The Things

“Always take a big bite
It's such a gorgeous sight
To see you in the middle of the night
You can never get enough
Enough of this stuff
It's Friday
I'm in love…”

— The Cure, Friday I’m in Love

The song rocked sweetly in my head as it played overhead while we walked back to our hotel after some shopping. It’s Friday, I’m in love. A week of successful work travel behind me, and still on the mend, and now my wife was with me in Las Vegas for the weekend to celebrate our 20-year anniversary of the day we met on the beach (14 years of marriage and the same date). The song was one of many special ones to us we had put on our wedding soundtrack to celebrate Friday date nights.

We walked hand in hand, and then my wife, who I affectionately call the Mama, said, “When we get back to the room we’ll call the girls.”

"Yes, absolutely."

One of our dear friends was watching our girls for the weekend at our house, and no sooner than the Mama had finished saying “the girls,” we were both texted.

I pulled my phone out to read the text. It was from that dear friend watching our girls. It was right after school, so she had picked them up and was bringing them back to our house.

Hi, out your house. Didn’t find a house key in either backpack.

“Sweetie, did you give Laura our key?”

No response. She was reading the text, too.

“Sweetie?”

“No, no I didn’t. I totally forgot.”

“Are you serious?”

The usual edge I get when things go south slashed away at the air between us.

“I can’t remember everything, Kevin. There was so much to do before I left. I just forget to give her the keys.”

I took a beat and a breath, still mentally slashing away in the air.

“There’s a spare in the garage,” the Mama went on.

“No, there’s not," I said.

“Yes, the one by the furnace.”

I shook my head. “That was the one to get into the office and guest room through the garage, but not for the house."

The Mama asked Laura to look for the key, but it wasn’t there.

She then looked at me and asked, “Wasn’t there a key in the office, too?”

“No, we took both keys out years out. There’s nothing out there anymore.”

“Then we’ll have to call a locksmith," she said without missing a beat.

More slashing at the air. “Are you kidding me? That could be hundreds of dollars. No way!”

“Then how are they going to get in?”

“Can they spend the night at Laura’s and we’ll FedEx our key now? Every casino with a conference center has a FedEx office.”

The Mama thought about it.

“Maybe.”

She kept talking with our friend Laura on the phone and I just kept on stewing. I knew my wife had a lot going on with work and the girls, taking care of me before I traveled, and the fact that I’d already been gone for nearly a week.

But of all the things, the house key? Ugh. I mean, you can forget toothpaste and underwear, but the house key for your babysitter? It wasn’t exactly like the movie Home Alone, but I still failed to reign in my discontent.

“I get forgetting other things to do before you left, but the house key? How could you forget to give the house key to Laura?”

That did it. Too much push.

“Sweetie, stop it. It’s done. I forgot, okay? Nothing we can do about that now!"

We both sent quiet. Then she spoke up again.

"What about our neighbor? Could he get in and open the door for her and the girls?”

I always love how she moves on immediately identifying solutions. I still have to extinguish the stewing before I move.

“Is the upstairs bedroom window still open?” I asked.

“Yes, it’s open.”

“Then most likely, yes, he can get in.”

Our neighbor had been up on his own two-story roof more than once, so I knew he could he could get to our window that way as well. We've never had to do it, and we've never tried, because the Mama has always said the second story is off limits anyway due to, you know, gravity. I called our neighbor and he confirmed he could do it, just not until later in the day. After that, we both felt better knowing that at least they’d get into the house eventually.

“If they can’t get in, we’re going to have to call a locksmith then," the Mama said as we continued to walk back to our hotel.

Ugh.

"Yes, I know," I said. "Love you."

"Love you."

And then I added. "We're going to make Laura a friggin' key, Sweetie."

"Yes, I know."

The Mama stopped and checked her phone. "Wait a minute, they're in."

I checked my phone at the same time reading the same new text.

Mike is climbing through window now. Do we need to worry about an alarm?

Mike is Laura's husband and obviously was now climbing in our upstairs bedroom window.

We are in the house now.

Both the Mama and I smiled. I texted Laura back.

Wow. We’re going to make you a key.

We thanked Laura and Mike profusely. After we got back to our hotel room and talked with the girls on FaceTime, our anniversary weekend was back on track. Of all the things I love about the Mama, her ability to pivot and adapt to nearly every situation, big or small, positive or negative, and then think rationally about solutions, is probably the most inspiring thing of all (I remember the fire on Maui and many other examples). That and the way she cares for our girls and for me of late with my recent health issues again solidified for me why she's the woman of my dreams and why we're celebrating 20 years.

Twenty years of living fully and mostly well, loving comfortably within our lives. Amen to our #BhivePower.

"For 20 years now you’ve been my inspirational muse,

My stunning ache, and the us of which we choose.

We want to believe our two halves will always grow

Intact as two wholes that the end of days will show,

And until then we will live fully and mostly well,

Loving comfortably within our lives, our endless tell."

—Excerpt from a poem I wrote for the Mama on our anniversary

Celebrate the Wham-Bams and All in Between

"Time is passing by
I still want you
Crime is on the rise
I still want you
Climate change and debt
I still want you
Nuclear distress
I still want you
The Earth is heating up
I still want you
Hurricanes and floods
I still want you
Even more than I did before..."

—Brandon Flowers, Still Want You

And just like that, it's 18 years later. This is the part when you measure the magical moments against the realities of your life and a long-term relationship. From that moment of meeting the Mama one day at the beach...

...October 11, 1997. I usually get the words wrong, but our lover lore recounts the fact that the Mama walked up to me and asked:

"So, do you always come here alone?"

And like a fool, I almost didn't answer her; I wanted to be alone actually.

But then, "Yes, I do. And you?"

Within a few weeks we were hopelessly in love...

....to now 18 years later celebrating my 50th birthday party with friends and family on the eve of our 18th anniversary of meeting one another and our 12th anniversary of marriage. In fact, we had the local iconic Surfing Magician perform for the kids and the adults at my party, but dammit, he couldn't make me 40 again. Sigh.

But he did combine two signed playing cards from me and the Mama into one. Right on. My sweet Mama Ace in the hole.

Nearly two decades, two children, a finally refinanced mortgage, a few careers and economic ebbs and flows, and multiple family dramas later -- here we are.

None of this makes our relationship any less romantic, however. Real life may not be as colorfully dramatic and sexy as a novel or a movie, although throughout the years have been peppered with manmade and natural disasters and illness and death and -- good God, tell me to stop.

But there's one thing I know for sure, that real life can be just as super hot for long-time lovers. For example, recently the Mama read to me one of those fun sidebars from one of her Oprah magazines (which I actually had to look through to find again for myself -- ugh):

Overrated Sex: All night long
Underrated Sex: Wham, bam, thank you, man!

Add up those wham bams and you've got one hot lovin' super nova. Through all the years and a few ups and downs that even we have had, intimacy it a critical priority. Early on we made it so and told each other if we ever strayed to never come home. Seriously. Flirtation is one thing, but infidelity is the ultimate killer and actually a symptom of something missing, maybe multiple things, usually passion and intimacy, so our recommendation is don't ever frickin' lose it if you believe in it and long to keep it.

Do whatever you have to do to make that whoopee. Growing up I remember catching my Grandpa grabbing my Grandma's behind and patting it gently as he whispered something in her ear, even after 60 years of marriage. I proudly carry on that tradition today.

Of course real life gets in the way of mutual desire, like a belligerent drunk buddy who steps on your foot and leans over you to hit on your girl sitting at the bar next to you. You sulk away to the bathroom nurse the foot and the ego, and when you recover, you're either too tired or too stressed or too busy or too --

The Mama and I experience all this, but we want make it all work and keep the love simmering to a boil. Later today we'll go down to the place we met on the beach all those years ago and read our wedding vows to each other. It's a way for us to honor our love for one another, a reminder that two halves can and do make two wholes, a loving family, a continuous adventure and being the omniscient narrators of our own Rom-Com movie that goes on and on and on and on.

That's why you should always celebrate the wham-bams and all in between. Always.

Happy Anniversary Hot Stuff.

Anniversary Vistas

October 9, 2009, Midnight

Baby teething all week. Shrieks and crying every other hour it seems. Sleep deprivation. Frustration. Amy is exhausted. I'm helpless to help soothe.

October 11, 1997, Early Afternoon

Alone on Its beach by the lighthouse, writing in journal. Shapely shadow appears. Girl in baseball cap and bikini asks:

Why are you always here alone?

I almost don't answer.

Almost.

October 10, 2009, Morning

End of workout. Stung out. Listening to B notes - songs we picked for Bea's birth. Trace Adkins' sings "You're gonna miss this".

I sit on the bench, crying joyful.

June 1, 2007, Early Evening

Burgers, beers and Scrabble at 99 Bottles. I ask:

So, do you want to have a kid?

You answer:

Okay.

October 11, 2003, Afternoon

Our wedding. Friends and family gather behind us. Amy's father marries us. Vows we wrote are read, crying joyful.

September 22, 2008, Evening

Amy pushes and pushes. 24 hours have passed – at home and the hospital. Finally OB vacuums, pulls and pop – she looks startled, falls back and smiles.

There we go. It was the arm. The baby's arm was up over its head.

I see our little Beatrice for the first time.

May 25, 2007, Early Evening

Sunset at Bryce canyon. Each of us reflecting the other's absence of doubt. A lifetime together of choosing us, without kids.

Our minds have changed.

October 11, 2009, Morning

Bea wakes and we sing her the morning song Amy wrote.

Good morning, good morning, it's time to wake up
The birds are all singing, the sun is coming up
It's a beautiful day for my baby and me
We'll laugh and we'll dance and we'll sing by the sea

Good morning, good morning, a new day is here
Full of bright, sunny smiles and good morning cheer
It's a day full of wonder and lots of good fun
So, let's get up, get going, the day have begun

Sleep deprivation, frustration, exhaustion have fled.

October 11, 2009, Afternoon

We will walk to the place we met. Vows we wrote will be read again, as they are every year on this date.

Crying joyful.

Happy Anniversary Amy!

Happy Anniversary Daddy K and Mama A

Time stand still -- I'm not looking back

But I want to look around me now

See more of the people and the places that surround me now

Freeze this moment a little bit longer

Make each sensation a little bit stronger

Experience slips away...

--Neil Peart

This weekend we celebrated our anniversary – 5 years of marriage and 11 years since the day we met. As we do every year we read our vows to each other again, but this time we couldn't quite make it down to the lighthouse where we met on October 11 because we've got a little Bea in a our bonnet. So we stayed home, read our vows, and then played Scrabble. Good times.

Early Friday morning was even sweeter for me because Beatrice and I hung out and listened to B Notes, the songs we put together that sing the very essence of having a love child. Yep, love child. What else would it B?

The little bugger brought tears to my eyes. I cradled her in my arms and she studied me intently as each song played. I played the drums lightly on her behind and just as the tears pooled in my eyes, she pooped.

And then smiled and yawned.

Our friends Nancy and Mickey stopped by to visit on Saturday and then Dani and Nathan and their children Kevin and Kelly came by today (I always say Kelly, Kelly, Kelly, Kelly - from the old Cheers episode).

Tonight we went to one of our favorite haunts, La Mission, to celebrate our anniversary, 'cause you can never have enough Mexican food. Beatrice was a sweet as a little angel, sleeping away while we ate and talked.

Freeze these moments a little bit longer…