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Writer's pictureShary Gentry

The Greatest of These



When Love showed up, 

It was years before I expected him.

Love spoke with a mild Southern accent, 

With maturity and reserve.

I did not expect Love to be a classmate

And especially not a high school one.


I was looking instead for Like

And had my eye on a few prospects.

Love did not even like me at first.

Instead he felt “a mild dislike” 

For what I still consider a silly reason.


In time Love’s attractiveness 

Made me look.

His wit 

Made me smile.

His insights 

Made me think.


Love showed up 

At a swim meet

Not to watch my races,

But to watch me.


Love invited me to dance

And held me close, 

And I knew we would end up dating.


“What are you doing on my birthday?”

Love asked.

I had plans for that evening

And told him,

“I’m going to a friend’s birthday party."

Then I heard myself say, 

“But she’s not that close of a friend.”


Love saw me as an individual,

Separate from my twin sister

At a time when it didn’t seem that many did. 


On our first date, 

Love took me to a movie,

And I hoped he would put his arm around me.

And he did.


Love drove me home,

And I hoped he would kiss me goodnight

And he did.


At school we played footsie in French 

And sat next to each other in Calculus.

I flirted in Chemistry.

“Will you light my Bunsen burner?”


Growing close to Love was easy 

Maybe because I had a twin,

A womb mate and a confidante,

A best friend,

And was used to sharing thoughts.

.  

John and I became inseparable,

But college was coming.

It seemed crazy to stay together

But wrong to be apart.


We went off to different colleges

Far from our high school

Far from each other

Not knowing how close we would remain.

It was awkward.


I was awkward.

“Will you invite me

To your wedding someday?”

I asked.


“I hope you’ll be in it,”

He replied.


“Maybe I will,” 

I thought.

“I need to find myself again,

To have people see me 

As an individual

And not as part of a unit.”


But I found myself 

Unhappy without my Love,

Crying myself to sleep.

I found having a long-distance relationship

Cumbersome and complicated.


Love wrote me weekly letters,

“Dearest Shary …”

Not knowing what type of letters

Those beginning with “Dear John”

Might bring.


Love drove 650 miles 

To see me

And another 650 miles back 

In snow and ice storms.


I spent the summer after our freshman year 

With him and his family in North Carolina.


Love spent the following summer at my college taking classes.

We needed to evaluate our relationship,

To make a decision.


We decided to get engaged.


“You’re not disappointed that I am engaged at only 20,

are you?”

I asked my mom.


“Not at all,” she said.

“I would be disappointed 

If you didn’t marry John.

You're soulmates.”


With my ring

And my fiancé,

I found myself happy 

And settled.

And even more focused

On my studying.


Two years later,

John and I were married 

In a beautiful ceremony 

In Tampa.


General Norman Schwarzkopf, 

In the building

For his retirement party,

Crashed our reception

And gave me a kiss.


My dad toasted us 

With the words

“I’m not losing a daughter

I’m losing a $300 per month phone bill.”


We seemed to be back to our fairy tale.

I wanted to be.


My Love and I lived in Houston

Then Durham

And then Dallas

Houston again

London

And then Dallas.


I became pregnant

Lost the baby 

Got pregnant again

And miscarried early.

Those years were hard,

Too hard.


In time

We had

And held 

Beautiful Ali.


Then

We lost another baby 

And I lost hope.


A year later 

I gave birth 

To premature

Precious Mark.


"He’s not a well baby,”

Said the doctor,

But he seemed well to me.

It seemed we had the perfect family.

One girl

One boy

A mom and dad in love.


But we lost a baby again

Though he was right in front of us

To autism,

A diagnosis that is rumored to bring

Divorce to 80% of marriages.


But John was with me 

Through it all,

And we got our son back,

Though he was different

From what we were expecting.


I saw our family

As perfect

Or imperfectly perfect

Or perfectly imperfect.

Four gloriously unique individuals.


I now had three Loves:

A husband who was my best friend,

Two kids who were close.


Life is not a fairy tale

But it doesn’t need to be.


Love requires commitment

And realistic expectations,

Putting aside 

The other plans 

We thought were important

To prioritize each other.

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