Worthy

It was one of the most beautiful days. Blue sky for miles, and fluffy white clouds. Country roads and cool air. Early spring, just after Easter.

She was just a baby in the backseat, my oldest. Not yet two, with her mass of curly hair and her little cherub cheeks. I was in the passenger side, my brow furrowed with worry. We had a flight to catch back to California, and I was plagued by what I had to face there: a husband about to go on deployment, and a marriage that was crumbling.

I looked at him as he drove. He was my dear friend. He looked as he always did, pale skin, blue eyes, black shirt, scruffy and blonde and young. He always seemed so young to me, even though we were only a few years apart.

"What will I do?" I asked him. "What will I do if everything falls apart?" I wasn't strong back then, or at least I didn't see myself as such. The idea of being alone and raising a baby terrified me. I couldn't see beyond my fear.

He didn't take his eyes off the road as he answered.

"Give me a few years." He replied. "Give me a few years to make something of myself, and I will take care of you."

I was touched by his words, surprised by what he meant by them. Something between us changed that day. He suddenly didn't seem so young. From a boy to a man, right before my eyes.

To my lasting regret, and for what I thought was his own good, I was dismissive. I responded with something like, "That's sweet."

I think of that conversation a lot these days. Give me a few years. Give me time, to prove to you what you surely must know. The offer of security. The offer of stability. The offer of love. Give me time to be worthy of you.

He felt I wouldn't take him as he was. He was right, but for the wrong reasons. Five months after that conversation, he was driving that same car and was in a fatal accident. It was only after his death that I understood that he wasn't unworthy of my consideration. I was wholly unworthy of his.

Over five years have passed. I find myself in much the same circumstances, with more to worry about. With three little kids instead of one. But I am not afraid. The marriage did crumble, but I haven't crumbled with it. There is strength, and at its source is the will to do anything for the ones that I love. At its source is a wellspring of love given to me unconditionally that I was to reciprocate.

I will make something of myself. Give me a few years. Give me time to be worthy.