It is funny how we forget certain things.
Or think we know all that there is to know about a subject. It is funny to discover that in the multi-page book, or the patchwork quilt, or the box of puzzle pieces of our lives that there are points that we have overlooked. It is awesome when the points make themselves known, When our eyes are opened to the fine print, or when our hand touches the patchwork's rough edge, feeling velvet instead. Or when a small piece of the puzzle adds an eternity of dimension.
Years ago I asked Sacha if he knew how French Husband and I had met. He smirked, "Of course!" He went on to defend his romantic knowledge of our meeting, and I beamed while listening to our seventeen year old talk about his Papa and me. Then like a thunderbolt he said something that made me take note, "What?! Oh my God! You're right I forgot about that! How did I forget about that?"
Sacha looked at me like I was a delinquent lover, "Mom, if Daddy had flipped Tails we wouldn't be here having this conversation. How did you forget about that?"
You see when French Husband was in L.A. standing at the Pacific's edge he realized that his dream of being in Southern California was not what he had imagined. He had not met anyone, his wallet was thinning, though Skylark was full, he was desperate. Reaching into his pocket he took out a coin: "Face (Heads) I will drive North, Pile (Tails) I will continue South."
In response to Sacha I offered, "I am flaky that's why. Thank God I have you to keep me on track." Then because Sacha was feeling full of himself, smarty and cute, looking so grown up I asked him if he had read the blog post about the Twenty-Steps. He shook his head no. I read him the Twenty-Steps. When I read number Twenty, he put his hand to his mouth, "Mom your joking! You are making this up! You did not write that? Daddy didn't do that, did he?"
Afterwords he realized that this was a missing piece to what he knew of our story, he continued, "Please tell me he modeled underwear or something like that and not that he was hanging out like a penis model!"
"A penis model?" I laughed.
"Whatever," he shrugged, "Mom?"
"Ask your Daddy, it is a good story."
Note: For those of you who have been reading my blog for a while, and for those of you who have just started: Many of you over the years have asked me to "Fess up" about how I came to meet my French Husband and what it is like living in France. I am repeating these blog post that I wrote five years ago.
Back then I wrote:
"After blogging every single day I am starting to put on my blog,
"How I Met my French Husband"
It is a new direction for me. Though I usually write about my passion for the French Brocante spiced with my personal life, I have never gone into so much detail about the reason I have spent over twenty years living in France. I will continue to talk about the brocante, my family, cooking, Annie, showing photos, and the other aspects of my life while diving into "How I Met my French Husband"-- I warn you the details are not always as pleasant as the "Happy Blog" that I have been writing but it is my story and hopefully you won't mind following along.Your friendship, your comments, are appreciated."
Thank you for encouraging me to write my story. (Any tips, corrections, or thoughts are welcomed.)
