Georgia on My Mind
This weekend was Palm Sunday weekend, a time that tends to bring on an air of reminiscence for me. Add in watching Hot Tub Time Machine, a movie about three guys who time travel back to the past with the opportunity to relive one fantastic day of their youth (and the soul-searching of where life and relationships have gone wrong), and I’ve been in a relatively pensive mood for the past three days.
You see, for years, Palm Sunday Weekend was the weekend my family would head to Georgia for a spiritual retreat. The explanation of the retreat is complex, especially since religion is one of those topics I don’t feel comfortable discussing at length here. Truth be told, spirituality was the reason for the journey, but for me, a teenage boy, that reason quickly changed. The first year we went on the retreat I met her, the first love I would have, and after that, every year my motivation for making the trip would be to see her, not necessarily for the spiritual side of things.
Lilly was a girl unlike many I had met at that point in my life. There wasn’t a strong female presence in gaming like there is today, and most of my youth was devoted in some shape or form to gaming, so she instantly caught my attention. Add on top of that her keen intellect, individuality, and looks, and I was smitten instantly. I can still remember the first time I saw her vividly. While nowhere close to the romantic moments that make it into books or film, it’s a moment that is uniquely mine.
As the years progressed, Lilly and I became closer. We wrote letters constantly and called each other once a month or so. Long distance calls were a luxury for me, so we had to keep them short and we’d alternate who called who, so as to share the cost. As with most teenage loves, these things were never enough for me. Letters and infrequent phone calls were enough for Lilly to be my girlfriend, and the relationship lacked the complexity of having her nearby in person, but it was a long-distance relationship, and those are hard, particularly on teenagers. I wonder how different our relationship would be today with the Internet, text messaging, Skype, and the other wonders of the modern technological age. At the same time, there was a romance to our letters that would be unmatched by e-mail and texts. For years, however, Palm Sunday weekend was the one time my heart could soar, because I would get to see her in person – an experience that was unmatched in any of our correspondence.
Eventually we got to a point where we were able to see each other outside of that one weekend. Again, spiritual retreat was the excuse that provided the experience, but love was the true motivation. Much like the first time I saw her, I can vividly remember other important moments – the first admission of love, the first kiss, quiet nights sitting at a lake house, looking out at the stars with a beautiful girl by my side. This is the stuff poetry is written about; the place dreams come from.
Like all good things, the relationship came to an end, and like most foolish moments, it was the guy’s fault. While I can remember the good stuff vividly, I have no idea what foolishness entered my brain to make me end the relationship. I just remember that it caused her a great amount of hurt and, once the moment had cleared from my mind, I hurt as well. I spent almost a year mentally and emotionally aching from my own foolishness, and right before the next Palm Sunday Weekend, when I knew I would see her again, I made my mind up to seek forgiveness and win her back again. I didn’t get her back again, and in the ultimate romantic irony, she met her future husband that same weekend. That was the last time I saw her… the last Palm Sunday weekend I made the trip to Georgia.
I have very few regrets in my life. I don’t believe much in regrets. We can’t fix the past. We can’t take back the mistakes we made. My relationship with Lilly taught me that – a lesson learned painfully. I know we’re both in good places in our lives now, both married, both with children of our own. I wouldn’t trade my current place in life for anything. But there’s a part of me that can’t help but feel a bit wistful every year on Palm Sunday weekend over the first relationship that taught me what both the glory and the pain of love could be. There will always be a part of my teenage heart that loves her, remembers the time we had together, and regrets the sorrow I caused both her and myself.
(NOTE: Yes, the image is that of her, circa 1990ish. Interesting how a blurry picture from the time turns into an interesting metaphor decades later, eh?)
March 29th, 2010 at 6:13 pm
What a beautiful sentiment. I can imagine her pleasure at reading how much she touched your life during that time. I wonder if she sees your blog…