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Dear Diary,
I know that sounds so cliché, to start every page in my journal with that greeting, Perhaps it is the spring of youth that now inhabits this house that has called me back to a salutation from childhood. Perhaps is it the fact that I can not think of any other way to begin each entry into this gifted journal.
It was perhaps my most favorite of gifts we received on our wedding day. Carefully selected and designed, one for each of us, a way to log the milestones of our first year from our own point of view. Both meant to be kept locked away in a trunk or in the back of a closet, to be dusted off and looked upon again by older and wiser eyes. Quite sentimental I think. But I have found the bearer of these gifts to be a person of profound sentiment.
I never expected when I laid eyes on the man that day in Shorty’s, that he would become such a friend and confidant. John Henry Holliday. Cowboy, Rapscallion, Gambler, Gunfighter, Murderer. Some of the words one might use to describe him. Words used by people who only knew him in his previous life or by only his reputation. As for me, I would be more inclined to use the words charming, loyal, protective, generous and yes, sentimental. For there is no one in this crazy bunch of people I call family more driven by his sentimentalities than John Henry Holliday. His gift, two journals, reflect his sentiment, the desire to have more than memories when the nights are long and the days are longer. Something if he had to do over, he would have done for himself. Make no mistake, for being almost 170 years old, he is sharp as a tack, but you can see in his eyes when he speaks of this past, the wish that it lived beyond only his memories.
I cherish this gift.
In the year since, I have found in Doc the brother I never knew I ever wanted. I like having him here full time. Watching our rapscallion turn into a doting father and a loving partner to my ever difficult (and I mean that in the best way) sister has been such a joy. He fills a part my heart I never knew was missing.
All of them do in their own way.
Turns out I guess I have a pretty big heart to have room for all of these hooligans, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
It is not what I pictured when I was a little girl sitting on the front porch of this old house. I pictured a handsome husband, my very own Prince Charming who would come and take me away from this place. We would have a lavish wedding and move to a reasonably sized castle and we would welcome two children, a boy, William, and a girl, Winifred. And we all would live happily ever after.
I was four.
I laugh when I think about it now. Baby me could have never predicted just how different my happy ending would be. Prince Charming turned out to be a ginger goddess and my bouncing baby girl wound up being a cheeky sixteen year old named Rachel.
Her adoption was made official today, this morning at 9:07 AM to be exact. A serendipitous turn of events, you noted. I agree. If it is not serendipity that made her finally ours one year exactly after we officially became an “our” I don’t know what is. She kept the name Valdez as we expected her to, but opted to take Rayleigh as her middle name. A fitting tribute I think.
I cried when she called me Little Mama for this first time today.
We had thrown her an adoption day party at the bar. Gus made her famous chocolate fudge cake, the same one I had baked for Rachel when we asked her if she wanted to be adopted by us. Wynonna, Doc, Alice, Jeremy, Damon, Billy, Nedley, Chrissy and even Mercedes had made it.
Yes, full on absolutely loving her new life, vampire Mercedes. There is no one better suited to that life than Mercedes Garner. (That’s a compliment.)
I had to run into the bathroom in Shorty’s, you following close behind knowing full well I would need a shoulder to cry on, even if the tears were ones of joy and not sorrow. Big Mama and Little Mama, that’s what she decided she wanted to call us officially. And while she had jokingly called us by those names in the past, today was the first time she called me that as my daughter.
I have a daughter!
Again, not what I imagined as a little girl, but like Doc, Rachel fits like the missing puzzle piece I never knew was missing.
She slid right in next to Wynonna. Still my Wynonna, hair like a horse’s mane with a Hollywood stylist, but so much more. My sister coming back to me was the first piece of my heart, the biggest, the one I had been missing the longest. This year had brought so much change in her, but she is oh so better for it. She had finally stepped into the role of fully becoming a Mama herself and she is the best Mama my baby girl could ever ask for.
She may claim she has no idea what she’s doing, but she has a natural maternal instinct. She makes it look so easy. I seek her advice often about Rachel as they are so similar and relate to each other so well. I can’t not even begin to express how much of a joy it is to see her like this. Not just surviving, but thriving. It’s all I ever wanted for Wynonna, to be happy and thriving.
Alice is another piece. She has brought so much joy to this house that was once nothing but a place of sorrow and sadness. She is the light of this family, and an Earp through and through, stubborn like her Mama, but as loyal as her Daddy.
She is the best of them, the best of us.
She had grown so much in the short time she’s been here with us and can’t wait to see what she becomes as she grows up. Perhaps she will follow in her parents footsteps. Perhaps she will go her own way. Whatever she does, she will do it exceptionally well, of that I have no doubt. And she will carry that piece of my heart with her wherever she goes. It’s ok. It was always meant to be hers.
I can’t finish this entry without talking about the last missing piece, my best baby.
One year ago today I married you, my love, my light, my protector, my shield. You gave up your very freedom to bring me back, to keep me safe. You happily tied an anchor around your ankle that keeps you something that you never were before, static.
I know you don’t regret it. But I do.
I do knowing that we can never had all those adventures we had planned for when the curse was broken and we had the time. I thought we had all the time in the world for our adventures then. I was so wrong. Yet, you have encouraged me to keep my world travel dreams. “My angel needs to fly.” That’s what you’d always tell me. You talked me into going places I’d only imagined.
This past year, I got to fly on an airplane.
I got to see the ocean and swim so far out that I couldn’t see the bottom.
I got to go with my niece and now daughter to Disneyland.
I got to see the Grand Canyon.
I got to do some of the things that I always wanted and some that even scared me.
And while Wynonna, Doc and Rachel are fine travel companions, none of it was the same without you.
Regrets, I have more than a few.
I will always regret the fact that you are tied to this land because of me. That even if you don’t ever feel trapped here, I feel regret for trapping you here. And I don’t ever think there will ever be enough time for that scar to fade. But I also don’t regret the things I got to experience with your enthusiastic encouragement.
Your angel needed to fly.
But she also needed a safe place to land.
And you my love, will always be my safe place.
My anniversary gift to you, is just a small token of my love. There can never be enough that I can do to repay you for what you have sacrificed for me, for this town, for our family.
I want you to have a safe pace to land too.
Tonight you will be gifted the keys to a small cabin. It sits beside the hidden mountain spring where we skinny dipped 364 days ago. Our secret place, the one safe place where we can be truly alone. You will be the only one with a key (no Wynonna or Alice Interruptus). In it, you will find all you climbing gear, All the books that I could replace from your old house, cross country skis, fishing poles, kayaks, (with extra life jackets for my still not very strong swimmer) a warm fireplace to rest your bones and a fridge stocked with all your favorite food and beer. It is your safe space. A place you can go to unwind, to relax, to forget. It’s not exotic, its not five star, it’s a one room cabin built by two very strong hands (thanks Doc) and several very eager assistants (Me, Rachel, Jeremy, Nedley, Billy, Alice and even Wynonna). But it’s yours. It is the very least I can do for you.
Nicole, you will never know how much I truly love you. How much your love has healed me, has built me up, has let me spread my wings literally and figuratively. No you are not who I once imagined, you are so much more. One day, forty years from now when we crack these journals open and read them, if you take anything from reading this, take this...
I thought I knew love, I thought I knew what it was to be loved.
I knew nothing.
You have showed me what it truly is to be loved, to be respected, to be admired, to be worshipped, to be supported, to be set free.
You are the love of my life, my soulmate, the mother of my child(ren) and the one piece of my heart I thought was to always remain missing.
But then one day, you rolled into Shorty’s, full of swagger and so cocksure. You were fudging adorable, that much I couldn’t deny.
I also couldn’t deny that the place in my heart I though long dead, long missing suddenly felt so very alive.
It was you all along. The one thing that really scared me, turned into the best thing I could ever hope for.
Happy one year anniversary my best baby. I hope you like my gift, well I guess its really from all of us. We all love you, we all couldn’t imagine life without our “Haught Sauce.” I hope this year is only the first of many, many, many more.
I love you.
Best Wishes and Warmest Regards, (As you already know from reading this, I don’t usually sign off on these entries, but as this is the last in this journal, might as well keep with the format!)
Waverly