Читать книгу Just Breathe - Honey Perkel - Страница 5

As an only child I grew up pretty much a loner. Painfully shy, I always felt more comfortable with adults than with my own peers. My parents’ friends would make a big fuss over me, something any child would love and appreciate. They made me feel important, special. But I never thought of myself as being special. And that point was always reinforced by my father.

While he spouted sarcasms at me, telling me how disgusting I was, I became lost in a world of make-believe and dreams. I spent a lot of time in my princess pink bedroom with the flowered cafe´curtains and matching twin spreads. There with my collections of dolls and stuffed animals, I dressed and undressed them, told them stories, and put them to bed. I pretended they were my babies. I played my 45’s on the portable turn-table and danced around my room. And I wrote stories.

From the time I was seven writing was a huge part of my life. Spending summers in Seaside, Oregon, with my mom, grandmother, and uncle, I made sure I packed a suitcase full of paper and pencils. I wrote about the beach town and its people and dreamed of being an author going on book tours across the country. It was just another dream.

In May of 1972 I met Bob at a Jewish “singles” party next door from where we lived. Though the gathering was for young people ages twenty-one to thirty-five and I was only twenty, I was invited to come.

The party was in full swing when I got there. Music. Laughter. Chatter. I knew no one. Standing self-consciously in the corner and then sitting on the couch, I finally decided I’d look more sociable if I had a glass of punch in my hand. I made my way to the refreshment table. There, I spied a man a few years older than I. Handsome, laughing, talking to several young women. Everyone seemed to know him and he knew them.

He turned towards me and smiled, handing me his glass of punch. We began to talk.

In June of 1973, Bob and I were married. We had a big wedding. Over two hundred guests. I walked down the aisle in a long white dress and veil, my arms filled with sweet smelling blooms. There was a string of bridesmaids dressed in pink tulle. A sit-down dinner. Live orchestra and dancing. It was everything I had ever wanted.

Every minute of every day brought so much joy just being Bob’s wife. We shared the belief that life would always be like that. Living in the clouds, as it were. Together. Forever. In time the routine of everyday life moved in with us in our small, one bedroom apartment. We welcomed it. Life was good. Bob went to work just five blocks from where we lived and walked home everyday for lunch. On weekends we took our clothes to the laundromat and did our grocery shopping together. We went on long drives. Went to the coast. Visited our friends and families. Only one thing could make our lives more perfect. A baby.