The other night it was getting late, Isabelle was peacefully sleeping in her bed and I was anxious to do the same. Jazz was working on an extensive project in the garage and relayed to me that he would be out there for a bit before joining me. I puttered and tidied a little awhile before my pre-bed ritual of teeth and face and tivo- Bachelor had taped and nothing beats some junk reality tv before sleep.
As I hopped into bed I realized how freezing cold my feet were. Solid chunks of ice. This is nothing new for me- I have terrible circulation to my toes and I’m constantly trying to keep them warm. Except when I was pregnant, all that extra blood kept me toasty toasty. I curled into my duvet and bloop-blooped through the two-hour Bachelor show all cozy and happy, waiting for Jazz to join me. (PS- anyone else think Michelle is scarycrazyinsane? Blows my mind.) No matter what I did, my feet would not warm up. I stuck them under my warmest of blankets, rubbed them with my hands, curled them under my body desperate to get comfortable.
I don’t know if you know this about me, but I used to be kind of mean. I’m not kidding, ask anyone, they will tell you the majority of high school was not my finest time. I was rude and abrupt and not very smiley and maybe it was just because I was a teenager with horrible, horrible problems like gross skin, trying to squeeze my way into the cool group and hating my curling iron bangs. College was betterish? I definitely had some wonderful friends and some very positive experiences. But I was in that weird stage where you really have no idea who you are or what you want to be when you grow up. I wasn’t very good at making friends because I don’t think I was very welcoming. I was cold.
Winter of my junior year of college, I had a string of terrible dates, with people who are likely in prison by now. I was at the end of my dating rope. And then I met Beardy Jazz, only then he was baby face Jazz. On our first date, he told me I was beautiful and I believed him. I can tell you what I wore and what we ate and where we went and how I snuck away to call my sister and tell her how I was having the best time ever. That date was February 9th- four years ago today.
After we got married, I had numerous people tell me that they were happy that “old Micci” was back. The nice, kind, warm, fun Micci that they remembered, not cold at all. They told me that Jazz brought out the best in me- they could tell some sort of change had taken place that consumed my whole being.
Just as I was wrapping up the Bachelor, Beardy Jazz came in and we said our nightly prayers and got into bed. After just a few minutes recounting our day and planning out the week, my feet finally began to defrost. That achey freeze left, charley horses went away, and for the first time all night, I felt warm.
All I needed was my Jazz.