There were a couple times in my life when I was certain that
I found “The One.” It seemed to be based on how fast the relationship moved (in
an emotional way), how the guy treated me (buying me gifts), and how well we
got along with each other’s parents. Jake and I didn’t quite have the
connection in that sense, but according to a journal entry I came across from
June of 1998, I listed the pros and cons about us being together. One of the
pros was, “He seems like the kind of guy I would want to marry.”
Our letter writing from the fall of ’97 through the spring
of ’98 slowed a bit, and I was interested in a couple different guys during
that time. As June arrived, I was ready to take a trip up to Camp Brule and
visit Jake. We hung out and talked for a couple hours, and those feelings
resurfaced. Within a month, we were seeing each other nearly every weekend. And
after 3 years, we had our first kiss underneath the stars. Ah, a sweet moment.
I made my first trip to State College, and our first date here was dinner at
Pizza Hut and go-kart riding at Tussey Mountain. With nothing else in the way,
our schedules coinciding, and our own vehicles, we decided to make it
“official”. All went well for a bit, and then I thought perhaps the grass might
be greener on the other side…
One of my BFFs entered her first semester at Lycoming
College back home, and she met a new friend down the hall, who was also local.
He saw my picture, thought I was attractive, and who doesn’t like a little ego
boost? Upon meeting him and chatting, I felt that perhaps Jake was just too
shy, the distance was too far, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to settle down at
19. My relationship with Jake wasn’t following the “pattern” that I had
experienced before in my serious high school relationship, so surely there was
something missing!
Telling Jake that I thought we were better off as friends
was not an easy thing to do, but when he didn’t react how I expected (broken,
begging, upset), then I figured perhaps he didn’t care for me as much as I had
hoped. As I would learn years later, I had my mind made up—what could he
possibly have said that would’ve changed it?
The next relationship I entered into fizzled out pretty
quickly. While I held out an olive branch to Jake in trying to be friends, I
should not have been surprised when he didn’t respond to my final letter. I
effectively ruined our romantic relationship and friendship all at once. It was
time to move on. I guessed it just wasn’t meant to be.
When I met someone new in early 1999, and our
relationship followed the pattern I felt it should have, it seemed clear to me
that he was “the one.” Two years later, we were married, and nearly four years
later, I became pregnant with Averey. All seemed right in my little world, and
then everything came crashing down. To make a loooooooong strange story very
very short, my then-husband began cheating on me shortly before or after I took
that pregnancy test. It goes without saying that a divorce was looming. But
this story is not about that story.
During the summer of 2005, I spent a lot of time by myself.
I delved into my journals from 10 years prior, because the summer of 1995 was
truly one of the greatest summers of my life. In those journals were stories of
Jake. I had always felt bad about the way I treated him, but tried to forget
about him by not reading journal entries about him and getting rid of most of
his letters. That summer, however, I re-read everything I had written about him
and realized that I had been so foolish in not treating him the way he should
have been treated. I searched for him on the internet and saw he was still
working at Penn State. But what could I do? Surely my pregnancy hormones were
taking over, and the fact that my husband was altogether ignoring me played a
part in grasping at my past with Jake. I had moved on, and surely so did he. I
just had to let it go.
After Averey’s birth, I had a lot of time to think and
reflect (and deal with my crazy situation). I had known for some time that
there would not be any chance of reconciliation with my husband, and having
Averey confirmed that. I did not feel any attachment to him because of her, and
we were starting out a new journey in life. Little did I know what path God was
carving out for us.
I thought about Jake. A lot. I wrote him an apology letter
just to write it, not to send it. I eventually confided into a couple of close
friends about him, trying to confirm that maybe I was a crazy single mom
hanging on to her past. No such luck. The first hint of things to come were 2
reconciliations of friendships that had gone by the wayside. When those friends
surprisingly reached out to me, I held out hope that maybe I would be able to
reach out to Jake in the same way. One of those friends was a lifelong BFF (with
the exception of the 3 years we didn’t speak) who was there for the whole Jake
ordeal. I confessed to her what I was thinking, and she said, “He’s not
married! He still goes to 4-H Camp!” (as adult staff, of course).
After much deliberation, prayer, conversations with trusted
friends, the fact that I was awarded full custody of Averey and my ex was out
of the picture, I took that rough draft of an apology letter, revised it and
sent it. I had no idea where he was living, but I guessed that if I sent it to
the last address I knew him to live at (his parents’), that it would somehow
get to him. I was at peace if I never heard from him. Sure, I would be
disappointed, but I had no clue what was going on in his life. I just wanted
him to know that I was sorry for the way I treated him all those years ago.
Ours was the one friendship that I effectively ruined, and he at least deserved
to hear (read) my apology, even if it was 8 years too late.
Opening my mailbox and seeing his familiar handwriting on an
envelope over a week later sent shockwaves through my heart. As I unsealed the
envelope with shaking hands and read the first few sentences, I breathed a sigh
of relief. He hadn’t forgotten about me either and had often wondered about me
over the years. (By the way, he had known before I had written him that I had
gotten married.) Our friendship had meant something to him too. Wow.
In our next exchange (upgrading to e-mail), I told him
briefly of the situation with my ex, and that I had a 5-month-old daughter. This
would be the test of whether he wanted to really
be in contact with me! He did. Pictures were soon to follow, and he hadn’t
changed much over the years (a good thing!). After a month or so, he finally
summoned up the courage to call me. Hearing his voice on the phone was even
more of a blast from the past. The conversation flowed easily, and while I
could tell he was still a quiet reserved guy, I felt comfortable talking to
him. Our friendship was renewed. We knew we’d like to see each other again.
A month later, the plans were made. My mom was down for the
weekend to watch Averey while I worked, and Jake was on his way to Harrisburg.
I was a nervous wreck at work all day, and as I changed in the bathroom from my
scrubs to a new outfit I had just bought (like he would’ve known any
different), I swore the butterflies in my stomach were going to fly out of my
mouth! We decided to meet in the parking lot of the Bass Pro Shop (how
romantic) since I didn’t really want to have a reunion in front of my mother, and
it was an easy landmark close to my apartment. I pulled in the parking lot and
walked up to the front of the store with no Jake in sight. As I turned around
to face the parking lot, there was no mistaking that it was him walking towards
me. I wasn’t sure how this was going to play out, but when he opened his arms,
I guessed a hug was appropriate! After a small exchange of hellos and good to
see yous, I got in my car and had him follow me back to my place. He’d met my
mom years ago, but the real test was meeting Averey. When he sat down on the
couch, she just stared at him. He talked to her and took her little hand with
his finger. No screaming—that was a good sign to me!
Our first date was mini-golfing at City Island (he still
claims a hole-in-one) and dinner at Duke’s. We had no trouble making
conversation, and it certainly didn’t feel like 8 years had passed at all. We
went back to my place and talked until 11 when he decided to leave. One of my
friends asked if I was going to kiss him. Um, no… but I wouldn’t pull away if
he did. As we stood by his truck saying good-bye, he leaned in to kiss me, much
to my surprise. I think I giggled like a teenage girl as I went back into my
apartment. I couldn’t wait to see him again.
And thus begins part 3…
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