Love & Respect - A Memory

I ran my fingers through my short hair trying to lay it all down flat. The afternoon was bright, the wind was fierce, and the lake was a green-blue. I stood on the rocky shore watching as he put down a towel and our lunch. His red hair and beard seemed to be on fire in the sunlight bringing out the endless amount of freckles on his skin. Every part of me wished that this split second would never end, but continue on into forever. We had driven there in his red BMW with the top down. The same BMW I had almost killed the night before, when he attempted to teach me how to drive stick in the church parking lot. It was old, the seats were torn, but it was perfectly him. He didn’t seem to care that I was crazy, and it was really working out between us. Of course, the split moment ended, as it always does, and the afternoon sun shifted spots in the sky as we finished our lunch and walked back up the rocky trail to the parking lot. 

Did I mention this was spontaneous? He knew it was my day off, and he just showed up at my apartment door with one solitary purple tulip and all the supplies for a picnic. After searching all morning, going to every store possible, he found one purple tulip. I had only mentioned to him that my favorite flowers were white tulips, in passing. He apologized again and again as he stepped in the door, “I went everywhere and I could only find purple. Who knew white was such a hard color to find. I’m so sorry.” I told him not to apologize, because it was perfect. Perfectly imperfect.

As the sun faded down beneath the Utah mountains we drove. No destination in mind, just driving. We talked about image, beauty, art, science, comedy and sadness. Never once was there a moment of silence. People talk about hearts intertwining, being linked together by something far more than we know. However that happens, it happened to us.

It happened all of a sudden too. Nothing big or fancy, just a sudden WOOSH. I can’t explain it. I was standing on the steps of my apartment building talking on the phone to my friend Rich telling him I was going to ask a boy out in the ward. I had been in Utah for two months and no one had asked me, so I was just going to DO IT. He told me I was crazy, but that I was me- and only I would do that. So I hung up and went inside. I picked up the ward “menu” and selected a boy I had seen at Ward Prayer one night. He had introduced himself to me and we had spoken for maybe a minute. I paced around for a good half an hour, then found myself dialing his number. The phone picked up almost immediately. “Hello?” he said cautiously from the other line, and I dove in heart first.

Of course, that boy wasn’t him. It was Rory. Rory was his roommate. Two nights later I picked Rory up from his house and we went on a scavenger hunt. We took pictures with the biggest piece of meat we could find, dressed up in St. Patricks day outfits, and swung on the biggest swing in all of Provo. We also took a picture with a map in his apartment. A map from his mission, his roommate was the only one home and HE took the picture. He laughed at my joke and thought my short hair was awesome. I made a mental note to be friends with him. 

Luckily, Rory and I weren’t really attracted to each other. It wasn't an awkward date, and it didn’t make my constant appearance at his apartment the rest of the semester awkward either. We were friends, bottom line. 

The friendship between he and I grew instantly out of nothing. Unlike any relationship I had ever had he was cautious and careful, he wanted nothing more than to know who I was, how I thought, and what made me wonderful. It was weird at first. Because unlike so many before, he asked permission. He asked to hold my hand. He asked to put his arm around me. Every time. It was like I had been teleported into a different world, a better world, full of respect and love.

Maybe he didn’t love me then. But it sure seemed like it.

Since him, nothing has been that way. I have never felt that much respect again. That’s what I’m looking for. A kind heart and an ocean of charity. Red hair and freckles don’t have to be included.

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