I met my wife, Lauren, in March of 2018, and we were married by October. I never thought I would be the type of girl to settle down and live that lesbian cliché life, but here I am! When past girlfriends would casually bring up the subject, I would quickly interject, slamming my fist on the nearest counter top as if it were a gavel made of wood, and I was imitating Kate McKenna doing her weirdly sexual chair-grind dance as RBG on SNL’s Weekend Update. I always proceeded with the same declaration, “I don’t need a piece of paper to remind me I love you. Plus, marriage is for straight people. You know, institution between a man and woman, sacred ritual, yada, yada, yada,” and eventually she let it go. The truth was, I never wanted to get married, because although I have loved many, I had not met Lauren. I knew when I finally did, then I would see things a little differently.
Being the spontaneous and impulsive woman I am, I woke up my at the time girlfriend, Lauren, at 6AM last October and hurriedly explained that I had rented a car while she was sleeping, made hotel accommodations for the weekend, and bought tickets to a Broadway show because (drumroll…) we were leaving in 30 minutes to drive to NYC to elope! We were on our way to Manhattan within 20 minutes of my news. When you are a butterfly chasing, romantic, random, fun weirdo, which I own, I tend to go overboard when it comes to keeping things exciting for my now wife and me. When you’ve lost the majority of the people you have gotten close to, you do drastic things to keep your loved ones close.
This Summer, our first as bride and bride, I needed to plan something big. Something crazy and fun, something that my wife would never forget. She had been under a lot of stress and I wanted to make her happy. I had so many ideas. Trips, camping, white-water rafting, amusement parks, road trips, maybe even skydiving? That’s when I had the idea of all ideas. I would make a “Summer Bucket List” including 100 things I would write out on a poster, and we could check them off as we completed them. That way, we would bond as spouses and have an amazing first Summer. The Summer of all the Summer’s in fact, and I was on a mission. Lauren loved the idea, so as long as we actually accomplished some of the activities, #SUMMER2019 would be epic.
Of course, not all the activities were extreme. Number 41. was, “watch the lightning bugs.” Number 7, “stargaze.” We watched a movie for number 67, and moved to our new apartment somewhere in the 50’s. But there was one thing I put on the list in good faith but knowing my wife would laugh at me for thinking it was a possibility, I decided it would be a surprise. I got us a Groupon for skydiving and told her after the fact. Gearing up and pepping myself up for the confession, I paced around practicing the right words, as if I was an obnoxious Capella warm up circle, I just blurt it out. Lauren looked deep in my eyes and promised she would never jump out of a plane, ever. Disappointed, but prepared for a rebuttal, I started to make my first point, but this time she interrupted me. “I would never jump out of an airplane, Lucy, except for you. I love you and if you want this, then we will do it”. Considering I booked our excursion for the following day, I was elated by her reaction. And her ability to buck up and try something for me that she had refused so many times before, reminded me what I am constantly reminded of, soulmates aren’t fairy tales and the tooth fairy. They exist. I looked at my beautiful wife, and remembered, this woman is the only woman marriage is worthy of.
The following morning, we woke up early and drove to Southern Virginia to glide through clouds and get as close to flying as possible. And trust me, you want to get as close to flying as possible. As our small, rickety plane ascended into the sky, I watched through the open door of the plane down on the farms below, gradually turn into a quilt of green patchwork, until we were close to 13,000 feet high above the clouds.
For someone who is always in her head, at that moment, I was in Lauren’s. I wondered if her heart was pounding as fast as the plane’s propeller’s, if she was exited, and mostly I worried she would resent me forever for this experience. I kept reassuring her that this opportunity would be unforgettable, but I know she couldn’t hear me over the rumbling of the jet plane’s engine. I’m positive she didn’t hear me when abruptly, her instructor-partner grabbed her disappearing out the door into their freefall, and I screamed at the top of my lungs to her, “I love you, sugar!”
Without hesitation, my instructor and I approached the door of the plane. I glanced down at the grey abyss below, and before I knew it, we hurled out of the plane, and for the first time I can remember, my mind went quiet, and I was completely living in the moment. My heart was racing, adrenaline rushing through my veins. Every stress, worry, trauma, and all my scars, gone! In that 60 seconds of freefalling through the clouds, I learned something while pummeling 12,000 feet towards the sage and evergreen grasses of Virginia. I always have wanted to fly away, but now that I am soaring, I miss Lauren. My rock who keeps me grounded. With the whistle of the wind and a hard jerk, the parachute opened, and I glided down towards the Earth, I thought of my souring Lauren and shouted her name in the wind. I looked behind me, and she caught my eye, as we held our gaze, and flew via parachute around each other, weaving together then apart like a tiny murmuration navigating the skies like a little bird. My bird who leaped into the World through permeable cotton clouds, who tasted the pale blue skies air, who felt the most precious form of freedom, my little bird chose to fly home to me. And that is the ultimate freedom.
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