Letter: Every Minute of Every Hour

My plane arrived exactly twelve minutes after ten.

In commemoration of my arrival, she set the hands of the old clock on the mantle at exactly that hour and minute as a forever reminder of the first time we would meet in person.

Previously we had spent tens-of-hours facetiming and laugh now that if we were counseling couples contemplating marriage, we would advise them to move 3,000 miles apart and see how well they do with the most important part of a relationship: communication.

As we laughed, shared, and shopped (and shopped, and shopped) for the many necessities of a wedding, from napkins to cake, to decorations for Christmas to silver balls and stars hung from the ceiling above the cake table, we passed down an aisle where clocks were for sale.

All the clocks were set to ten minutes or twelve minutes after ten.

Turns out, I was to discover, the placement of the hands on all clocks for sale, are set at that hour and minute, the reason being this position on the clock face creates a “smile” with the hands making the clocks appear happy and appealing to shoppers.

It was twelve minutes after ten when my plane landed and I smiled as I saw her there waiting for me at the airport.

And I smiled again as I took her hands at that so very special time during the wedding ceremony, the exchange of the rings.

But first I had, with my hand, to brush away tears.

The pastor had just prefaced to the vows we were about to make how much the both of us knew the importance of those words: “in sickness and in health, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

We did know, yes, we very much did know, and had plumbed the depths of grief to know, what it meant to support the one we had loved and lost, and now were committing to do so again.

It was an emotional moment.

And then, just like that, as I looked down at her hand, I almost laughed.

There on her ring finger was already a diamond ring, one of several diamond cupcake toppers she had purchased.

Which made the “diamond” ring already on her ring finger something like 10 to 12 cents.

Like the hour and the minute – twelve after ten – that I arrived.

Like the hands on every clock for sale.

Like what I remind myself every time I take her hand in mine everywhere we go: to love and to cherish.

Every minute of every hour.