Purple Polka-Dotted Umbrella

Do you know that crippling sensation that lives deep in your torso telling you something is wrong? I think you know what I mean. Your gut suddenly weighs 300 pounds, your mind flutters in worst-case scenarios, and your heart rate skyrockets. There is no logical, sane way to shout, "Stop, my intuition is screaming at me that something horrible is about to happen!" You seal the panic inside you, even though it's throwing a tantrum against your skin. My advice to you would be to sound like a lunatic and shout about it anyway, because that is how I felt the day everything changed. Intrigued? Thought so.

Allow me to set the current scene for you. Ravens scatter across the gray sky. My Hunter rain-boots melt into the sand and the crisp October air smacks me in the face. I drove 30 long minutes from my apartment in downtown Seattle to Golden Gardens Park as if walking on the beach in the middle of fall would solve my problems. Don’t judge me. I’m sure you have done some cheesy shit like this too. The salty sea scent mixed with the dead fish stench almost prompts me to throw up lunch. I play with the piece of jewelry in my hand to distract myself, but the questions only grow louder in my head.

He was the one who wanted to move to Seattle. He loved the rain. What a cliche, right? He was the one who bought our giant blue bookshelf full of my favorite Adrienne Rich poems, his bizarre Blake Crouch sci-fi thrillers, and the unnecessary number of Italian cookbooks he decided to buy during his short-lived chef phase. Still want more information? We met at the ripe age of 23. Fresh out of college with no money and sky-high aspirations. He majored in environmental science at Penn State, but he would soon somehow land an accounting job. I was an english major at NYU. Love at first sight. It was a rainy day in New York City, of course, so naturally I brought my purple, polka-dotted umbrella along with me as I walked to the coffee shop--Beans--I worked at on the weekends. There were no employee entrances, so we walked into Beans the same way everyone else did: the front door. I started to shake my umbrella; unaware I was spraying water all over the table behind me.

That’s when he yelled, “Woah, I wasn’t planning on taking a shower until later!”

I was so mortified. I offered him a drink on the house, but Nathan, being the little shit that he was, said: “I’ll take it. But then I could always tell your manager.”

He teased me. I panicked, though. I was just barely making ends meet working this job and doing photography on the side at weddings. I noticed how cute he was, which only piled on my embarrassment.

“Please do not do that. I’ll throw in an extra croissant?” I said nervously.

He laughed at that and said: “How about dinner with me tonight?”

Can you guess what happened next? I said yes, being lonely and deprived of male attention. Little did I know he was more than a borderline creepy but cute customer I soaked in New York City rain. He was my Nathan. We fell in love, sharing a shoebox of an apartment decorated with cutouts of Adrienne Rich lines and random wedding photos I took. A few years later we moved to Seattle so we could enjoy nature and urban life together- a mixture of both of our preferred locations.

Back to the present. Are you following okay? Seattle was always his home. His dream. He constructed a 10 minute PowerPoint presentation convincing me to get on board with trails, hiking, and constant rain. Here I am, walking along the beach where he proposed to me, thinking about accepting another man's offer. It begins to rain. Of course it does. Do you think change plays with us like toys? That time and change hang out and plot to point weapons at our most vulnerable spots? If you had told me just three years ago that Nathan would die of a heart attack I would have slapped you in the goddamn face. If you added that someone would be proposing to me a short two years later? I hope you have health insurance.

Now you get my dilemma. The waves crash on the shore as I pick washed up shells off the sand. "Nathan, if you are listening...", I start to say. Scoffing at myself, tears form in my eyes. Guilt and shame have made a home deep in my core. The wind is picking up, twirling my sweatshirt strings. My hair, wet from the rain, whips me in the face as I struggle not to cry. Have you ever felt so incredibly horrible for falling in love again? Am I betraying our love, am I betraying Nathan? I never knew joy could follow tragedy.

Suddenly, something hits me. I mean literally, right on my back. I look down and there it is. The wind picked up someone’s umbrella and delivered it to me. It was purple and polka-dotted.