Quattro

It was mid eighties in the East end of Kauai as the sun in all it’s array lit up the ocean blue sky, the schlack of foundation gradually melting off my face. It was just as I pictured it, ocean front the serene sound of the gentle waves caressing the golden shore, champagne, and most importantly family and friends. The acoustic band played Israel’s version of Some where over the Rainbow as I walked up the aisle arm in arm with dad. There he stood waiting for me in white linen. Eyes rimmed with tears, dad hugged me one last time and handed me over to the man, in a few moments, that I would call husband. Shane mutters through his smile, “is that fake eyelashes?”


Along with the push up bra, he absolutely despises cosmetics. Every night before I went to bed he dreamily says, "your so beautiful why do you put all the crap on your face?" I am greeted more aggresively in the morning as I slap on the makeup, "I don't know why you put that shit on, you don't need it!" Little did he know that I've been hiding underneath all the makeup, as a shield from insecurity since highschool. Although he could just be saying that, to reduce the hours it took me to get ready. There I stood in the midst of paradise as my soon to be husband is fixated on my fake eyelashes and the schlack of foundation on my face. He was so astonished he forgot to point out my half-witted debacle of walking in sand in four inch heels.


Girls get whisked away in their wedding delusions of grandeur, stuck in the details like dresses, bridesmaids, flowers, photographers, and caterers. Consequently, after the five hours of celebration and a bank account with non-existent funds, one is stuck with that dude of a husband. If a female can see beyond the diamond ring, white wedding, and the house with the white picket fence, than your disappointment factor is marginal. Like a goody bag, you never know what you’ll get. Shane and I, never fought not even a whisper during our four years prior to marriage. I retract that statement, I nailed his manhood to his brain cell, once when I exploded from an unforeseen nicotine fit. Six years later and one cold turkey later, nicotine fit be gone! We have yet to have a shouting match of absurd proportions. Most definitely, that's the sound of me knocking on wood.


He’s the only man that I saw fit for forever. We were cohesive, confident in ourselves from the very beginning. We were smitten. We were tight as possums. He withstood the others by the true fact that he was a very candid person sometimes to a fault. He addressed issues that men in the pass feared to tread. He trekked the new frontier with great maturity. Bonus points, he was equipped with a sense of humor. He didn't have me at hello, but he had me soon after that. New York always grows them correct: witty, blunt, chivalrous, and far from a sucker. Besides his obsessive compulsive disorder, and his need to aggrandize everything, he was “issue” free.

A very wise person once told me, "all the things that you are so fond of, will -in turn- become an irritation."

Indeed a bold statement, but I can see how that could come to fruition. Forever is a “long” ass time! Thank god this padded cell is comfortable and cozy!

We have a lot to show for four years. Mainly, a boy and a girl. Like a stick in a spoke, riding this bike took more practice. We’ve stumbled along the way and we have scars to prove it. The kids are endless treasures, but they’ve been known to terrorize. A moment in particular, Stevie Day belted a striking sound to murder from her bassinet and Hunter chimed in with his toddler melt down. My thoughts were deafened. I look to Shane and both his hands are up like a conductor at a symphony. We burst into laughter. As we chuckled, it was that defining moment that I knew it would be okay.


On occassion, I am false eyelash friendly. He still tells me I’m beautiful at night and yells at me in the morning when I'm enhancing, he calls it tinting. All the same, we’re still happy as clams in a bucket of sand. As far as I can see, forever is not a problem. Again, the sound of my knocking wood. We’re stuck together through vows, kids, and debt. I accept it. Everyday, I’m thankful for all the beauty and goodness that surrounds us and for that I love him more. Happy four years!!!


This is Shellie waiving the white flag back to you Bob at the studio!