Unicorn Life - The Beginning

Unicorns are interesting (albeit mythical) and magical creatures. They appear regularly in dreams, fairy tales, and other fantastical stories. They are universally accepted as symbols of love, goodness, and joy. While I’m not in the “unicorns are real” camp (if there is such a thing), I know that there is no harm in believing in something whose sole purpose is promoting good. I live a life that feels equal parts unbelievable and fantastical — what I’ve come to call a “Unicorn Life.” Give me a couple of minutes to tell you the story of how it came to be. I bet I can make a believer out of you.

I didn’t want to be there. I was sitting in the family room at a church in Gainesville Florida. I had driven through the night from Tennessee to attend the funeral of the son of my nephew. Funerals are never fun – but this one was even more tragic. An accident had abruptly shortened the life of a promising young man – twenty-five was far too early for a funeral. I definitely did not want to be there.

She walked in and I recognized her immediately. I hadn’t seen her in more than twenty-five years, she was so memorable there was no doubt. Blonde hair, bright blue eyes – a look that is memorable regardless of time. Her name was Kim and I couldn’t figure it out - why was she here? I knew that she was a family friend – but this seemed far too random. I knew she lived in Florida (at least that’s where she lived the last time, I saw her). We were both widowed - her husband died a year before, and my wife had been gone nearly eight years – both after forty-year marriages.

“Hi, I’m Tim,” I said after walking over to greet her.

“I know you, dummy,” was her response.

After a quick ‘side hug’ and twenty-three seconds of unrememberable and trivial small talk, I ended the conversation, “Well, it’s nice to see you.” As I retreated, I was in a crazy, shock-like state – mesmerized by a chance encounter with this beautiful woman and horrified at my banal conversation. My words were awkward, disconnected, chaotic and nonsensical. I was convinced that she felt the same.

When I saw her again heading to her car, I knew I must try to improve my poor, bordering on hideous showing and if nothing else regain a tiny shred of self-respect. I approached her. Our conversation was cordial and remarkably easy flowing. “I’m sorry for disrupting your travel plans a few months ago.”

You see, back in October, I scheduled a trip to visit my mom in California. When I informed my mother of the dates I was told, “That’s fine, I will just reschedule Kim.” It turns out that she was such a close family friend (I wasn’t aware of this) that she would routinely visit MY family, stay at my mom’s house, and even sleep in the same guest room bed that I did when I visited.

“That’s OK,” Kim answered, “Your mom told me that she wanted me all to herself without anyone else around.”

“Really?” I replied, “That’s the same thing my mom told me!”

We laughed and enjoyed another ninety seconds of fun and enjoyable banter before parting with a mutual, “We need to catch-up sometime.”

Three weeks later, I was still replaying the “Kim conversations” over in my mind. My phone rang – it was my brother in California. He had spoken with Kim when she was visiting my mom that week and had asked if she would be open to ‘reconnect’ with me since we had similar experiences (widowed at a relatively early age) – she had said “sure” but would not call me first as she was an “old-fashioned girl”. While trying not to appear overly eager, I agreed. The only thing missing was her phone number – I didn’t have it. That was quickly resolved with a quick ‘ding’ on my phone indicating a received message, Kim’s number.

I had been out of the relationship-building / dating game for quite a while. I knew the stakes were high. I was alone and lonely and I had long ago resigned myself to the idea that finding love – at my age (66) and my stage of life (approaching retirement) was more than unlikely, it was nearly impossible. I was convinced that a table for one would define the rest of my life. So I did what any normal heterosexual man would do – I did nothing. I sat on Kim’s number for four days. When I finally decided to act it was Thursday (I had received the number on Monday). I spent just a little over two hours developing a text (at least five complete or partial rewrites) that I hoped would give me a second chance – a real chance at finding love.

I knew I had one chance to make a good impression, one chance to perhaps set the tone for a new relationship – a relationship that I hadn’t imagined, expected, or prepared for. Did I have any chance at all? I wasn’t a random stranger she met in the produce aisle at Walmart – she knew who I was. I was recommended by my brother – she knew him, his wife and my entire family. I figured that these gave me a couple of bonus points – plus, and most importantly, I had nothing to lose. So, I pressed ‘send’, held my breath, and prayed.

Twenty hours filled with intense excitement, anxious worry, and a serious case of ‘sender’s remorse’ ended at last with her message in reply. She was “not opposed” to us chatting. The date and time were scheduled. The relief I felt when Kim responded was now replaced with panic, fear and the strong feeling that I had no idea what I was doing or getting myself into.

At the appointed time – Saturday 7pm Central – I steadied my shaky hand and pressed the send button on my iPhone. My life would never be the same. She answered, my heart exploded and we talked like the long-lost friends that we never were. We started the call by agreeing to be open and honest and completely transparent; we vowed to not play any games and be truthful each step of the way. We promised to keep our conversations private and to be very intentional about not hurting each other (we had both been hurt in our marriages and knew this time must be different). We determined that God had brought us together and that it was our job to do our best and see what, if any, relationship possibilities existed for us.

I asked if I could come to Florida and take her to dinner – she declined, “We have a lot of work to do before we take that step.” We spoke for two and a half hours and agreed to speak again on Monday. I hung up and spent the next twenty minutes staring at my phone in amazement. What had happened? Why did I feel like this? Was I dreaming? Was I developing a . . . relationship?

Sunday was a mistake – we should have talked again. Instead, we texted like teenagers (though both in our mid-sixties). I ordered her a case of water – Fiji, she said she “hated flowers and loved the water” – because it was the corniest gift I could think of. I failed miserably at keeping my brain from popping out of my skull as I analyzed how wonderful I felt while dealing with the 694 ways this could go wrong. One phone call. I was one call in. The very start of a relationship and I was going crazy. What was wrong with me?

Monday’s four-hour call, followed by a second call of just two hours and Kim agreed to go out with me. A date was chosen. Scheduling required a day three weeks out. Tickets were purchased and planning began.

My life continued but changed significantly. What had been the endless cycle of work – eat – TV – sleep and repeat was replaced with work (texting back and forth frequently) – eat (a lot less) – talking with Kim – sleep (a little) – and wait for my day off so we could talk all day. I was on a mission to learn as much as I could about her (and her about me) as quickly as possible.

We talked on the phone every single day. The sound of her voice and her infectious laugh were the highlights of each day. We upgraded to FaceTime after five days and I could now see her sparkling eyes. Texting was nearly non-stop with dozens of exchanges each day. We talked about everything. Easy stuff (pizza toppings) and hard stuff (sex and money) plus everything in-between. Then something unexpected happened – we fell in love.

As crazy as it sounds, I was completely done. More than once I stared at the ceiling following a call and wondered if things were moving too fast and if her feelings were as strong as mine. As it turned out – fast was fine and yes, she did love me that much. We talked about our future life together. Where we’d live. What we’d do for fun and what the mundane and trivial of life would look like for us as husband and wife. And all of this happened BEFORE our first date.

When the first date weekend arrived, Kim and I spent seventy hours together. We went on four official dates and were inseparable. We shared our first kiss and our second kiss. The third kiss, however, was incredible – the thing legends are made from – neither of us would ever be the same. When I got on the plane to fly home, I knew. I didn’t know how. But I knew.

The next few months were busy. Knee surgery for me – and the physical therapy pain that goes with it. A two-week trip to Ireland for her. The calls and texts continued and even increased. We never missed a day, rarely speaking for less than three hours. Even a six-hour time difference between Tennessee and Ireland didn’t slow us down. We were committed to the amazing love that God had brought into our lives and didn’t want to miss even a single minute.

A May engagement had us in full “forever” mode. A wedding was planned, our honeymoon booked, and my move-to-Florida schedule was set. All that was left was to let all the families know. We had kept many of our close family members (including my mom) in the dark about us, so a big reveal was called for. Kim flew to California and was introduced as my soon-to-be wife. Everyone was thrilled.

We were married in a very private ceremony on a beach in California on a picture-perfect afternoon. The day was amazing and my breathtaking Kim was beyond beautiful. We promised the same forever that had defined our romance since we first said “I love you” on our fourth phone call.

As we enjoyed our magnificent honeymoon, our first trip together as a married couple, we quickly came to understand two important things. First, what we had was far more than special. The depth and intensity of our love was unlike anything either of us had experienced – or had even heard of – and we were totally happy about it. Secondly, we learned that being a part was not something we would tolerate well at all. Therein lay the problem – our move-to-Florida plan called for nearly three months of long-distance to accommodate family and work obligations. A change would be needed – so change we did.

We lovingly dealt with my family obligations which were met with equally loving acceptance. I retired, I packed, and I moved. Each mile of the journey my heart became increasingly filled with love and a peace that is not easily understood or explained. I was greeted at the door of my new home by my Kim. My happily ever after began.

I still don’t believe unicorns are real. But sometimes, when she’s laughing in the kitchen or walking toward me at the door, or kissing me goodnight, I think I may be living with one.