A Day of Firsts
The other night I told someone one of my dreams is to be the recipient of one grand romantic gesture. I'm not one for gifts or flashy displays but having someone genuinely express how much I mean to them would be an amazing thing to experience. In honor of the holiday, I've written about the closest thing I've had to a grand romantic gesture. Interestingly enough, it wasn't with someone I loved. Isn't it funny how things work?
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August 28, 2010.
I woke up in a beautiful hotel room with a Juliet balcony overlooking the city of Chicago. It was my first time in that hotel and the first time in that neighborhood. The traffic noise was not the same as the traffic noise downtown, I noticed. The cars were moving faster; the whooshing sound they made sounded soothing, rather than jarring. It was the first time I felt serene listening to traffic noise.
It was going to be a day of firsts.
I showered and dressed, took a few photos from the balcony and then walked downstairs to breakfast. The hotel restaurant was full of families and couples and a group of men dressed for golf. The weather was perfect for golf. I sat alone at a table by a picture window that looked out over a terrace and watched pigeons foraging for crumbs amongst the table legs. The server was friendly but I noticed a trace of pity in his eyes that I was eating alone. He came back to my table as often as he could without being annoying. I was grateful for the company.
After finishing the meal, I strode down the hall to the conference room that was going to be my location for the next ten hours. I was the first one there. I didn't mind. The man I was there to listen to spoke to me as he was preparing the room. I was surprisingly at ease, given his reputation and celebrity. He seemed overwhelmed and nervous, two traits he wouldn't show the rest of the day, once he took the stage. I excused myself, both to find a table and to let him have a few moments alone.
I found the perfect seat, one that allowed me to face the stage and see the door. I sat there, sipping iced water and watching as people arrived, all looking just as excited as I felt. I sensed that I wasn't going to be leaving that room the same person. It seemed we all felt that way.
The room filled quickly. With only a few minutes to go before the scheduled start, I saw him walk in. He looked like he had just woken up. His eyes were tired, his hair a mess, but on him, it worked. He also looked nervous and not quite sure he was in the right room. He scanned the room for a seat and as his eyes passed over me, I smiled. For some reason, I felt the need to reassure him, to make him feel more at ease.
His eyes stopped roaming the room and he focused on me. He smiled back as if he had just spotted an old friend. Seeing an empty seat beside me, he walked over and introduced himself. We exchanged names and he told me that he had hoped to find a friendly person at this event and he knew when I smiled at him that we were meant to spend the day together.
And we did. We were there to take part in a soul-searching seminar that became personal quickly. In every exercise we were asked to partner with someone and he and I stuck together throughout. We told each other things we hadn't told anyone else before; we told each other things we hadn't even known until they spilled out of our mouths. We held each other up and made the other feel safe enough to go deeper into our emotions than either of us had before.
I felt strong enough to be completely vulnerable with him. It was the first time I had ever felt like that with anyone. Another first. He told me over and over again that we had met for a reason. I believed him. I wouldn't be having the experience I was having had I been paired up with anyone else in the room.
Not wanting to let go of what we were building, when it came time to break for lunch, we went off together. We sat at a little table by ourselves, sharing food and life stories and laughter and it was the most intimate time I've ever had with someone with whom I wasn't romantically linked. A first for me. His phone rang, twice. He ignored it, twice. Today is just for you and me, he had said. Everyone else, everything else, will still be there tomorrow. Tears sprang to my eyes and I rushed to blink them away. Feeling important to someone, even for a moment, is very powerful.
At the end of our meal, he borrowed a pen and started writing on a corner of the butcher paper that lined our table. As he wrote, he explained the story behind the words he was putting down. What he wrote were the lyrics to a song that he had written and wanted me to have. With a flourish he signed his name at the bottom, ripped that corner of the paper from the tabletop and handed it to me.
Then he sang the song to me. He didn't care who was around or who was listening. He looked me in the eyes and sang to me as if I were the only person in the room. It took my breath away.
We spent the rest of the day together and even while listening to the speaker, we passed notes back and forth, wanting more and more information from each other. We wanted to know everything about each other and the day was waning.
At six o'clock, we said goodbye and I walked to the lobby. My taxi had just arrived to take me to the train station when he came running out of the hotel, wanting to say goodbye one last time. We hugged again and thanked each other for the time we spent together. It didn't feel like enough but it also felt right. We were meant to have only that one perfect day.
My life changed that day. I learned things from that seminar that still resound in me daily. I hadn't planned on going when I received the invitation but a small voice deep inside told me I had to. When I hesitated, it grew louder and louder still, until out of a desperate need to just quiet it, I registered. Another first.
It was a day of firsts. If the firsts are perfect enough, that's all you need. I left stronger and wiser and for the first time in a long time, full of hope. I had forgotten how hope felt. That day, hope felt like the comforting sound of traffic moving quickly past a Juliet balcony. Or a song being sung just for me.
Chicago, firsts, life coach, romance, seminar in About My Day 
Reader Comments (7)
Wait...that's IT?
NO!
I'm sitting here with tears in my eyes. It's like karma. Like destiny. FATE!
We must find the mystery man...he could be THE big tuna you've been meant for. OH MY GOODNESS!
I love this story. What a magical experience. I wish you more like this.
Simply beautiful. I'm glad you listened to that inner voice, which can be hard to do when it takes us out of the routine. :-)
I agree with Mary - may you have a life full of days such as this. It sounds amazing. Although I have a little bit of Heather in there, too. Why was there no more than that??? We always want to push it for more, right? :)
Achingly beautiful in a take-your-breath-away manner. Simply lovely...
That was a beautiful story! Thank you!
Beautiful. And it reminds me of that saying people say, that I often find is true: some people come into our lives for a reason and some for a season. This one came to you for a reason. He helped you open up and feel hope. He gave you a gift that day. Thank you for sharing it with us. I wish you well on your journey.