Breaking Shallow

My real life beginning with my husband Joseph.

​Growing up I often spent my summer days riding my bicycle to the lake, and spending all day there. My grandmother only lived a mile and a half away, so the bike rides were not too tiresome. I was now seventeen and little had changed in that regard. The lake was still my way of passing the sultry days of summertime with my cousins. It held much more excitement for our easily entertained minds. Most days we would spend time at our homemade rope swing, burrowed in the woods, and watch as random drunk men fell flat on their face because they could not hold on. Sometimes we would go roam the campsites in search of new friends to make acquaintance. It was our world and a refuge from the grips of parental control; we were free in our special sanctuary.
One ordinary day, as my cousins and I ventured to our favorite escape from the mundane routine of home, something was stirring behind the scenes. I saw my cousin Ezra in the distance and he was not alone. He seemed to have formed a crew of guys that I later learned he had started a rock band with. One of them was a boy named Joe. He was thin and ruddy, and had red hair that seemed almost blonde as the sun shown down on him. He was wearing a tie-dye shirt and cut-off camouflage shorts. He was quiet, but I could tell he was intelligent, as he did not ramble on and on, like most guys his age did. I did not give him much thought that day, but little did I know that I was imprinted in his mind.
A few days later a school friend of mine, who would occasionally drop by, since he lived just a trail through the woods away, showed up at my door. To my surprise, the shy red-haired boy was with him. I was told of how his parents were not together and he got to spend the summers with his dad, who lived just a trail away as well. He randomly asked me if I would cut his hair, and without thinking I blurted out, “Sure!” I had never given a hair cut in my life, but he did not seem to care. It was uneven all over, but he wore it proudly as though he was honored just to have my time.
We became friends and kept in contact once summer ended and he had gone back to his mother’s place, about four hours east. It started with phone calls and progressed to letters, but then we did not stay in contact for quite some time. I assumed I would not see him again until the next summer when he would come back to stay with his dad. To my astonishment, a few weeks later I spotted a familiar face amongst the crowd boarding the school bus. I was very excited to see him again, but we were not as close as we had been due to the lack of interaction over the past weeks. He told of how he had come to live with his dad permanently, and now we were neighbors. As the days went by, I would frequently get off the bus at his house just so he could walk me home through our wooded path. We became inseparable friends.
I longed to be with him in a more intimate connection but I feared what all of my friends would think of the match. Joe was in a punk rock band, frequented parties, and hung with the rebel crowd. I was captain of the cheerleading squad and voted prom queen. We could not have been in more opposite of social classes. I wanted him as mine, but resisted for shallow motivations. I thought my friends would look down on me as I held my position in school with much regard. I slowly broke away from him and pretended as though there had been nothing between us. Boyfriend after boyfriend came into my life, but none of them made me feel unique and precious the way Joe had without even speaking it. When I was boyfriend-less, I was a wretched friend that used Joe for comforting my self-absorbed sting of loneliness. He never pushed anything on me unless I moved first, but would just be there for as long as I wanted him near.
A new boyfriend would come along and once again Joe was put on the back burner until I needed him. It was very unfair to him and he did not deserve the treatment he received from me. I just stuffed down my conscience, as I knew no matter what he would be there for me time and again. He ultimately became heartbroken that I was not his, despite our connection, and decided to cut to the chase and tell me exactly how he was suffering. I found a letter on the edge of my bed one day, with a poem that he had written attached to it. He described his feelings for me since the day we had met, and said that the first time he saw me he told a friend of his that I would be his wife one day. The letter and the poem melted my heart, as no one before had ever cherished me. I fought past the peer pressure and popularity contest at school and became his girlfriend. Fifteen years later we are still together, with three wonderful children, and I know when I am old and need him to take care of me, he will be there, just as I will be for him.