birthday cakeFifty-four years ago, after a movie at the Eureka Theater, I became, for the first time in my life, somebody’s special someone. Since this was March in the Pacific Northwest, it’s likely we were obscured in thick fog, but in my memory there was a night sky brilliant with stars as we held each other and he asked me to wear his ring. The ring was borrowed and cheap tin, but that was then, and is now, of no importance whatsoever. As a symbol it worked just fine. I don’t remember the movie we had just seen. I know we were making our way back to his parent’s house and from there I would have either walked another twenty blocks to my parent’s home, or I may have called my dad for a ride. Neither of us had a car. None of that matters. I was fifteen. That seems unbelievable. But that has to be correct because seven months later, on my sixteenth birthday, we became engaged.

This rush to commitment wasn’t about sex.

Well, of course, it was about sex. We were teenagers.  And we were good kids, both of us fulfilling an emotional need in the other, and both of us well indoctrinated. He was Catholic. It’s-a-sin-to-sleep-with-your-hands-under-the-covers Catholic. My mom explained sex to me by revealing that it was the most extraordinarily wonderful experience in the world. And if I did it before I was married, it would kill my father.

The first time this boyfriend slipped his hand under my bra, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience.  Afterward, when I had caught my breath, I rushed home to make sure Dad was still breathing. I was relieved to find that my going to first base hadn’t killed either of my parents.

But I digress.

Back to the importance of today’s date.

Over the years I’ve accumulated a number of important anniversary dates, but this one, March 5th, is the one that is the most real to me. The first time another human being declared that I was the most special person in their life.

In just over seven months, I’ll be seventy years old, and once again, I find myself single. Widowed – a status which carries its own expectations. I miss having someone to nurture and spoil, and I miss being the one person who makes someone else light up when I walk in a room. Though one should never say never, I have no desire to be married again, but I could really go for a cake and a honeymoon. And a smile when I walk in the room.

About Author and Speaker Pamela Foster

Pamela Foster is a speaker and author. Her first book, Redneck Goddess, is available at local bookstores and on Amazon. Her second book, Bigfoot Blues, will be available in August 2012.
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5 Responses to Cake

  1. Pamela, So lovely. Thanks for sharing. Hope you are putting your life together for your next chapter!!

    A big hug, Alison


    • I’ve been thinking about you. Hoping your mom and you are doing well and that the hype we hear about the virus is greatly exaggerated.
      I’m working on the next chapter, though seem to be doing quite of racing in different directions. I trust that sooner or later, I’ll find my path.

  2. Jan Morrill says:

    You are on a path leading to many passions. I have no doubt you’ll eat cake and will bring many smiles. ❤️

  3. Mona Krause says:

    What a heart warming story of young love. Then back to reality. Love it.

  4. Beverly Litzinger says:

    Pam, I was very happy to get your post. That it was lighthearted made it even better! It just takes time to move on from such heavy experiences as you had recently had. I see hope in your writing and I am so grateful you shared! Hugs and love from the South!

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