Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Three little words...

Three little words, 
Oh what I'd give for that wonderful phrase,
To hear those three little words, 
That's all I'd live for the rest of my days.
And what I feel in my heart, they tell sincerely.
No other words can tell it half so clearly.
Three little words, eight little letters which simply mean I love you.
Bert Kalmar and Harry Ruby

... are not exactly what you may think they are. 

It is time.  These three little words coming from Boomer, who himself was man of few words anyway, were synonymous to a movie director's call of "Action!"  Three little words that have launched many a memorable action sequence in our history...then and now.

  1. 1998.  I call Boomer in a state of frantic panic, of heart attack proportions, when our so-called "secret" courtship was "outed" at a departmental golf outing. He calmly eased me back into my skin saying, "It is time." 
  2. 2003 (read He said, She said).  Boomer proclaims, "It is time," for us to begin our migration house-hunt in Evanston, IL.  
  3. 2006.  In sharing his road-to-proposing story the night of our engagement (read Shannon Maureen) Boomer said he managed his nerves by often saying to himself, "It is time."
  4. 2007.   While discussing me now officially an empty-nester (Dara moved out of the house for good) and the impending economy changes, Boomer agrees, "It is time," for me to move in with him at The Loft and rent my condo.  
  5. 2009.  Sitting on the sofa together watching the news, Boomer turns to me and simply says, "It is time."  "Time for what?" I ask.  He repeats, "It is time..." with a momentary pause he continued, "For us to get married.  What do you say SMO?"   I don't think I need to finish what my response was, do you?
  1. I kept Boomer's Sanuk shoes - - his favorite footwear here in Florida - - by the front door where he last left them.  They were there for about 45 days, when on a Sunday morning I heard Boomer whispering to me (read Left Right), "It is time."  He was telling me it was time to put them away in the closet with his Crocs
  2. "It is time," kept ringing in my ear for about two weeks at the end of February, I was confused in understanding what exactly it was time for.  One day, when I opened the closet door in the guest-room to dump a handful of mail addressed to Boomer in the collection box I had stored there, the volume of "It is time," I'd been hearing grew much louder.  I stood in the room, looking directly at the closet, its doors open, gazing at its contents, Boomer's mail and containers of his personal memorabilia, when I got it - - go thru the containers, piece by piece, one more time (I did my first pass back in December), keep what I want and ship out the rest to key people of my choosing (in partnership with Boomers' continued guided whispering.)
  3. As an adult, a trademark move for me is locking myself out of the house once. Typically shortly after I've moved in.  A oddball right of passage of sorts to the change before me I suppose.  I've done it at each of my last 3 residences.  Boomer and I did it together our 1st week in Florida.  Shortly after I moved into The Loft with him, I did it, when he was out-of-town.  In his own stealth way of lovingly teasing me for my inherent goofiness was the the post-it note he taped to the front door the next time he went out-of-town (see image right).  "Do you have your keys?" became my catch phrase whenever we walked out the door together. Two weeks after Boomer passed, I locked myself out the house. I wasn't use to having to take my keys with me every time I went somewhere.  What was freaky for me about this isolated episode, had nothing to do with actually locking myself out, or having to climb through a window for the first time ever in my life, but in the discovery I made later that afternoon while going through my personal memory box of our history - - the post-it note.  Once again, Boomer had made his presence known that he was watching me and enjoying a good laugh in his new loving way. "Do you have your keys?"  It was as though he saw the whole thing, I'm confident he did, and found yet another way to watch over me.  So I taped his note to the back door, the main use door.  Then I discovered his "Hi Smo," note and added that to the door, above the key note.  Now it's like he's talking to me.   Recently the winds changed, and as I was heading out to a recovery meeting (read Bowing to Russell) I heard, "It is time."  You see, I hadn't locked myself out since, and am now always remembering to take my keys with me.  Hearing "It is time," was his way of telling me I'm over the hump of needing the supporting reminder to take my keys and that it's o.k. to return the notes to my history box for safe keeping. 
  4. This week I began investigating the cable/satellite services we have, picking up where Boomer left off, because I started to hear, "It is time," when I turned on the TV and looked at the recent bill. 
 "It is time," has become my personal version of Kalmar and Ruby's three little words.  Their lyrics to this 1930 classic, their biggest hit by the way, resonate with me, for I look forward to hearing them often, again and again for all the rest of my days.   And look at that - - 8 letters too.

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