Whenever I’m alone and I feel anxiety building I close my eyes
and visualize Josh. I recreate his round shoulders that hold up his long,
sloping arms that start to widen beginning at his elbows. His upside down
triangular back that stretches his shirt fabric around his trapezoids and then
lets the fabric pool loosely at the bottom. His skinny, hairy legs that remind
me of spiders that scurry away from sunlight. His plate sized, veiny hands that
hold my face pressing each spot like a magic button. His heavy lidded eyelids
that stretch over eyes the color of a coastal ocean. I see him and I mentally cup
those plate hands around each side of my face, I look into the ocean eyes and I
watch the Josh in my head breathe in and out. And then, I can breathe too.
When I met Josh I was being washed in a never-ending cycle of
ups and downs, I was the dirty tennis shoes crashing into the top of the dryer
and thumping the bottom the next second. I felt like I was stumbling through
life cross eyed and dizzy. And then I met Josh. Unflappable, steady, reliable
Josh. Josh is like a rock that’s embedded in a mountain, something that was
always there and always will be. One night we stood under the awful orange glow
of a street light at an hour only people filled with absolute hope or complete
despair are awake for and looked at Josh’s broken car window in the parking lot
of an all-night breakfast restaurant. “Oh,” remarked Josh in a casual voice as
he poked carefully through the shattered window, “my laptop is gone.” I watched
his eyes carefully waiting for what might come next. “I guess I’ll call the
police and make a report. How was your pancake? Did you get enough to eat?”
That’s when I decided I wanted to live on this rock.
In addition to being in a tumble dryer of ups and downs, I was
also paralyzing stationary. I was afraid to move, afraid to make choices and
most of all, afraid of change. Change was the dirtiest of swear words in my
vocabulary. Change meant only bad things, never good, it was never worth the
risk. Until I trusted Josh.
One impossibly gorgeous day Josh
and I went snorkeling on South Padre Island. The instructor repeatedly drilled
that we were in a shallow bay that you could stand up in but we were to never
let our feet touch the ground or it would kick up sand and ruin the trip for an
entire boatload of people. I couldn't swim. It quickly became clear that I
didn't have the coordination to breathe through my snorkel and to keep my body
horizontal at all times. In the middle of the ocean Josh sensed this and
grabbed a hold of my hand, as long as I had his hand I was able to figure out
how to keep my body flat and enjoy the beautiful fish. As we bounced about in
unclear water next to strangers and surrounded by weird, little fish that
nibbled our legs, I realized Josh would always keep me afloat.
We were in South Padre that day
because Josh had taken my hand and said, it's OK to make changes that you want.
Adventures don't have to be scary. So hand in hand we lived in so much of the
world. We slept in the back of my car on a beach on the Gulf of Mexico. We
climbed down into tide pools in the coastal northwest and touched starfish the
size of our faces. We walked the Riverwalk hypnotized and mesmerized by its
magic. We browsed rows and rows of food trucks in Portland. We drove to
Disneyland just because we felt like it. We touched sea turtles in Texas. We
stood halfway up a volcano that you can see almost an entire state away. And
through all those things I realized change comes anyways, like the waves off
the ocean next to our favorite fish and chips restaurant where they knew us by
name. Change crashes down all around us, but Josh holds my hand and we don't
drown.
Josh will never drown because
he'll never stop swimming. Almost ten years ago our dining room table was
constantly stacked high with papers and envelopes, city governments were slowly
clunking the wheels of adaptation and still wanted paper job applications
filled out with black ink and mailed to their mailbox. Meanwhile our mailbox
was just as full as our table, of letters back that said nope, no, no thank
you. Hundreds. Literal hundreds and Josh never stopped smilingly filling them
out. One day I put on the gentlest voice I could find and bracingly voiced what
I'd been secretly thinking for months, "Maybe it's time we looked at
another career path for you." Josh said only six words: you get what you
focus on. And he did.
Josh had confidence in himself
that fed his determination. But Josh had confidence in me too. He hands me
lists of programs if I ever let slip I'm halfway interested in learning
something. He says you can do whatever you put your mind to. And more
importantly he says you should. Because of him I let myself discover my dreams.
Because of him I let myself dare to live them.
Josh thinks the absolute best of
me at all times. If I snap at the kids, it’s, “Wow, you spend so much time
focused on them and being a great mom, of course you snapped a little, everyone
does. Why don’t you go to the gym for a while and then maybe to a movie?” If I
say I feel lonely, he organizes a sitter and sets up a date. If I have health
problems, he lets me lay in bed every night and calls me after every doctor
appointment with a, “Ok so what exactly did the doctor say?” If we find out I
have to be on a strict permanent diet, he downloads food apps to check the
ingredients of everything I eat and researches what I am allowed to eat at my
favorite restaurants. If I say I feel frustrated always being home with the
kids, he finds me a part time job he thinks I would like and then helps me
apply. If I let a grimace pass my face for a second, he jumps in with a, “what’s
wrong? What can I do to make it better?” If I’m at work on the weekends, he
takes the kids to buy me the newest illustrated Harry Potter book or drive 30
miles to a specialty gluten free bakery to get me some food he thinks I would
like.If I say I have a problem I'm worried about with one of the kids he listens intently to me talk for hours about how I worry about Cooper making friends at preschool and then by his responses, he shows he's just as concerned as I am. He never judges me when something trivial triggers my anxiety, he puts his hands on my face, locks eyes, and breathes with me because he knows that's what I need to come back to reality.
It’s impossible that one person
can transform your entire life. But Joshua Beach does every day.
Happy early Valentine's partner.
