Once Upon A Time,

It's officially fall and Josh would like to eat the leaves. He would also like to eat the box elder bugs that are taking advantage of the uncertain warm days to venture forth, but I am not as convinced of their nutritional value as he is. He is sleeping now under a fuzzy cloud of a blanket...and the soundtrack to Frida is echoing softly in the living room as I type. The furnace growls to life, and then drowses off again...I am too cold or too hot, and I have not yet found my middle ground. Sometimes when I walk through my home, I feel as though I am swimming in my grandparents' pond...cold dark waters with a surprising streak of warmth where the sunlight hits the currents. All I need is the icy gray clay between my toes, and the triangular head of a painted turtle before me, and I am back there again, smelling the tang of crabapples and hearing the soft, bellowing croak of the bullfrogs.

It is very odd. I am looking out the windows, and swishing about in the leaves, and wondering how the year could have come almost completely full circle again. Here, time seems to stand still but at my store, they have begun to drag out the Christmas stock again, and the outside world has gone on without me. If I did not have a ten-month old reminder giggling up at me in the cart, I would almost think that I could just step back into it all without missing a beat. At the same time, it just feels so alien to me.

Fall always makes me wistful, and the memories seem to breeze in with the leaves. If you will indulge me today, I will not speak about teething babies, sleepless nights, or this uneasy alliance I have formed with the Cult of Mommy hood...Today, I will tell you one of my favorite stories. In all fairness, I should tell you that this is not wholly _my_ story, but it has become legend. Like all legends, this one has grown wings with the telling, but as with all of the very best of legends, this one was true.

Once upon a time, my mother did not get her Happy Ending, though she always said that the best thing from her first marriage was me. Thankfully, Mom was stubborn and strong, and had many friends. She felt that her life was full and happy. However, she also had a five-year old daughter who was bound and determined to get herself a daddy -- and I was not above being a mercenary little beast about it. I sized up every male I saw with the jaded eye of the very young -- from the guys pushing carts in the supermarkets, to the fellow with the nice teeth in the toothpaste commercials -- and placed them in separate mental columns... "YES", "NO","If I Have To", and "The-Scary-Guy-Who-Hides- Under-the-Bed-In-Movies-Mommy-Won't-Let-Me-Watch".


While Mom was not actively seeking marriage at this time, she decided to create THE LIST, as something of a joke between herself and God. THE LIST contained all of the characteristics that a man would have to have if she would ever consider the remotest possibility of even thinking about getting married again. She had VERY high standards, and to make certain that she didn't settle, she would put THE LIST away, and rewrite it occasionally. She shuffled it, traits were added or deleted, but THE LIST was never completely from her mind. I was not quite as particular. He had to be a nice person. I had to like him. He had to like me. He had to give me ice cream...Thankfully, Mom was more determined about her list, or I would have had her married off to a party clown.

Something was in the air that year. For me, it started when a pastor asked for members of the congregation to stand up and tell everyone why they were thankful. I do not know what made me stand up and say the words, but they welled out of me like a spring.


"I'm thankful for my Daddy."


The pastor paused again, because he knew my mom...and he knew Dad One was elsewhere. Before he could say anything else, I blurted out, "I'm thankful for my Daddy. The one who is coming soon." Then I sat down, shaky and weirded out, but filled with an absolute certainty that what I said was true. I cannot say that the incident made me any more patient, but at least I knew that something remarkable was going to happen...


For Mom, it began with the casual request of a friend to see THE LIST...Mom laughed, dug it out, began reading, and was halted by an unexpected shout.


"Wait a minute, I know this guy!"


"No, you don't. This person doesn't exist. I made him up."


"No, really. I know this guy!!! He's my boss, and he just got a divorce and was the first man to get custody of his kids in this county."


“Ohhhh...Great." Mom shook her head. “That is just what I need.”


Yet, unbeknownst to my mother, all of her friends began banding together, initiating a series of dinner parties, a grand, giggling conspiracy with the concerted hope that my mother and this Magical Man would eventually meet ...All of them were absolutely convinced that these two were destined to be together...and soon enough, Destiny showed its hand.


I was packed off to a guest room to watch television and play with the children of the other guests. The room we were in contained an exercise bike, a television and a bed and we were told many, many times to leave the exercise equipment alone...and keep the noise level down. We didn't, of course. We liked exercise equipment. You could exercise on it. What you could not do...at least with that bike...was pedal backwards – or so said the fascinating label on the bike that I completely ignored. There was a nasty spronging sound, and the chain fell off the bike. We all shrieked in dismay, and it was at that moment that Fate came to stand in the doorway.


He had a bristly, walrus mustache but looked more like the biggest teddy bear I had ever seen. His eyes crinkled at the edges. You could tell he had known sadness in his life, but there was such a light...such genuine humor in his eyes. He had a kind, low laugh...and even the scent of his aftershave made you feel safe and settled. This man also was a purveyor of all things magical, and impressed me greatly by pulling a quarter from my ear... (For days after, I yanked on my lobe in the hopes of another windfall...I ended up with a sore, red ear, and no change to be had). The other kids had gone by this time, except for his daughters -- two pretty, dark-haired girls...The party wasn't over yet, but it was time for us to go to bed. With a quiet authority, he told the three of us to climb under the covers. I watched, as though from outside the window, as he tucked us in with practiced ease. I watched as he settled onto the bed and began to read a bedtime story. I don't remember the story...I only remember that he sang a quiet lullaby to us, silhouetted by the light of the hallway of the stranger's house, accompanied by the clink of wine glasses and the murmur of strange voices in another room. He leaned over to give the pretty girls a kiss on the forehead and a last rumpling of their hair, and began to get up to leave.

I hurt. I hurt watching them. I hurt watching what a real Daddy was...what a real Daddy could be...and I could not breathe. Without question, it was imperative that he not go. He had to stay. No other person would do. No other person would sing lullabies as he did, or be as kind and gentle as he was. He absolutely had to stay or nothing would ever be right again!



I could not help it anymore than I could help feeling the horrible sense of impending loss. "Please...please...I...Do you think you have enough love in your heart for another little girl?"



I cannot remember his answer, but his eyes crinkled even further...There was a sound at the doorway. Mom had come in to check on me, and had been frozen by the question. She leaned against the door frame, stunned. In the darkness, I could not see the look that passed between the two of them...I can imagine ...embarrassment ... sadness ... understanding...and something else. He rumpled my hair and patted my head, and said something soothing and soft...and the hope I had felt as I had left the church began to hop and flutter in my throat. "This was the one." I thought to myself. "He's going to be my real Daddy."


And he was.


I will always believe that what Mom saw that night...whatever he said to make it better...that night was the beginning of her great love for him...and later, when the vows were said and their lives were joined...Mom looked everywhere for THE LIST so that she could show it to Dad. She never found it. She and I have always believed that THE LIST had worked its magic, and simply was not needed anymore.

As I began to ready myself for my own marriage, I kept returning to the memory of that night. I was lucky enough to witness a great love affair first hand. You read about this in books...or sniffle over it in the dancing light of a movie theater...but to see it...to know what can come of it...it just gives one such an amazing and wonderful hope. It makes you want to fly.For years after the fact, it was so unreal to know that David would be there in the morning and there in the evening...and he would not go away if I made a mistake. David taught me how to ride a bike...how to throw a Frisbee so that it would come right back to me...he tried to teach me algebra and chemistry (and how he came through that experience sane is beyond me). While I danced with both of my fathers at my wedding, David was the only one I wanted to walk me down the aisle, and he did, giving me away to Jon with a teary-eyed shove, as proud of me as any "Real Dad" would be. David is my Dad and my hero, but he will never know what he really he saved us from. He will never understand how the ability to have faith in him affected and enhanced my ability to have faith in anyone else. Some people become heroes for only a moment...some people become heroes because they choose to stay.


Not many people are lucky enough to witness a great love affair first hand. My parents are living proof that one can be silly, and dear, and exasperating, and wonderful all at once...and still have the most amazing love for each other. You read about this in books...or sniffle over it in the dancing light of a movie theater...but to see it...to know what can come of it...it just gives one such an amazing and wonderful hope.

I will always believe that what Mom saw that night...whatever he said to make it better...that night was the beginning of her great love for him...and later, when the vows were said and their lives were joined...Mom looked everywhere for THE LIST so that she could show it to Dad. She never found it. She and I have always believed that THE LIST had worked its magic, and simply was not needed anymore.

I was twelve when I first heard about Mom's List. With all of the desperation of an almost-teenager, I began a List of my own. I knew all of the qualities I wanted him to have...I could picture his eyes and voice in my head...My road to him wasn't exactly smooth, and it took over a decade to finally find him, but I did, and just at the very moment I was about to chalk THE LIST up as childhood nonsense and forget about it.

He did exist. He was real...and he was all I ever wanted...and in many respects, he was a lot like David -- quiet, watchful, and with a smile and demeanor that said I was safe and everything would be ok. Jon doubted my judgment in this matter...he thought I could do better. I tried to tell him about the list, to prove what I was saying...that he fit every single trait I had down...but THE LIST was gone. I had put it somewhere that I could always find it...and it was just gone.


To this day, Jon thinks that I made up the story of the list, and all of my insistence to the contrary has not dissuaded him. So, I hold him and love him, and smile as he whispers that he loves me...I marvel at the gifts of the universe...

and I think back again to that night long ago, when a quiet man with a lullaby gave me hope for a happily ever after.