We met in 1995, when you were 14. I decided—quietly and from a distance—you were the most effortlessly cool person I’d ever been around and all kinds of cute. I wasn’t the only one with this revelation; Jon Batchelor was a hot commodity at City Road UMC’s youth group gatherings. I was shy and awkward though so I just ... watched.
You were my brother’s friend. For years, I saw you at swim parties and movie nights and playing video games. It was the best part of those nights for me, seeing you. I told no one. Because you’ve always been braver than me, I’d learn later that you started asking “so, will Jennifer be there?” somewhere around 1999.
We didn’t see each other for awhile. I met another boy and planned to move to Michigan and you came to my farewell party. I found myself standing next to you at the food table and, as you leaned over me to grab some chips, you said, “I don’t think you should go.” I brushed you off because I didn’t think you meant it the way I wanted you to mean it.
I would’ve stayed if I’d known how you meant it, I think.
Six months later, I was back home. Alone. On a Saturday night in February, you called my parents’ landline and invited me to come over and watch a movie with you and a couple friends. It was the first time you ever called that number and asked for me. I sat next to you on the couch watching Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and you held my hand all night long and all I could think was, “Jon Batchelor is touching me.”
Two and a half months later, we all went dancing for a friend’s birthday. I danced with you for hours that night. You’re a really great dancer and I’m not, but it didn’t matter. You walked me to my car at 2 a.m., and kissed me goodnight. And all I could think was, “Jon Batchelor is kissing me.”
Falling in love with you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Staying in love with you is my most enjoyable work. Building a life with you feels like coming home, over and over.
We’ve celebrated your birthday in bars and at home with new babies. But whether we are dressed up in a nice restaurant or in our sweats, on a porch swing at the lake, sipping coffee because everything is canceled in the midst of the most unexpected year, it doesn’t matter.
Because 25 years worth of road led to this moment. And whether there are presents or not or parties or not, there is always this: me beside you.
Happy birthday, my love. You are my favorite and my best yes. 39 looks good on you.
This post was inspired in part by the 30 Days of Grateful Writing Challenge by Callie Feyen through Exhale Creativity. Learn more here.