a love story.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

Walking into the woods

I was making a book; he was a book designer.

We talked on the phone — me, in San Francisco, him in Brooklyn. We chatted for nearly an hour before I convinced him to let me hire him as a consultant for a project. I paid the standard rate, typical deliverables — and yet I wanted to keep talking to him. Not just about making books. About so many things.

I sent him a quick note:

“You know, if you were in my city I think we’d be good friends.”
“Me too!”

We did the digital stuff—Facebook, Twitter, the rounds. I was curious.

Three weeks later I received a message from him: “This might be a strange idea, but do you want to be pen pals?”

I wanted to stand up and raise my fists in the air. Oh YAYYYY!

A year later, we’d written more than one hundred paper and email letters back and forth, writing about creativity and imagination and philosophy and technology and urbanism and more. I had such a crush on him. But he was more pragmatic; I lived in California, so there was no way we could actually date.

It wasn’t logical.
It made no sense.

Yet we kept writing.

It was slow, deliberate, and non-romantic. We chatted about ideas and words; I found a friend on the internet who I could explore questions with through meandering multi-topic conversations. We talked about brain neuroscience and litigious societies and project management and strange correlations; through talking, we got to know the subtle thoughts and mind crinkles that comprised our mental and emotional worlds.

The letters would slow down as we each explored dating in our respective cities; but strangely, nothing local moved forward past a few first dates. Other than a long pause and a couple of snippets in the letters, we rarely talked to each other about our dates, or about dating.

Late Summer came and a whisper told me that I needed to be in New York that Fall. I didn’t imagine that I liked New York, but I put the question into the universe later that night: Should I go to New York?

The next day my friend emailed me to tell me about a conference—in New York. It matched. I applied, made work arrangements, and sent him a quick note:

“I’ll be in New York next month, will you be around?”

Later, he told me he cleared his calendar for the week. I did the same.

We met on a Tuesday, at a friends’ house for dinner. I was accidentally two hours late after walking many miles through Queens the wrong direction and taking the wrong train far away from my destination (as it turns out, Express trains don’t stop at all the stops). 

He asked me if I would be free that week. I said eagerly “Yup! I’m free Friday night, Saturday, Saturday night, Sunday, and Sunday night.” (Classy).

“Great,” he replied. “Let’s start with Friday night dinner and maybe we can go for a bike ride on Saturday.”

On Friday we met in Manhattan to get sushi. I got lost again, my cardinal sense of direction confounded by the chaos of multiple alpha-numeric subway lines criss-crossing the five city-sized boroughs.

What the heck, I thought, I’ll just jump on this next train and see where it takes me.

The train was empty; I was lost. I figured there must be a map on the train and I’d figure it out while moving. Of all the trains in Manhattan and all the cars on this train, there was one person sitting on this exact train: Alex.

“Oh hey!” He said happily. He tried to get up but he was stuck to the ground—literally: he’d just stepped in gum.

“Hey,” I said shyly. 

“Fancy meeting you here.”

We started talking — in person, one-on one. We were new, nervous; a first date if there ever was one — but I felt like I already knew so much about him. I’d learned his mind, his brain, his thoughts. I knew he was kind, he was careful, he was exceptionally thorough; I knew he was patient.

In a world that’s so overtly physical and sensual in many ways — with the pressure to date, to be attractive, to show up, to make out so high on first meetings — I can get overwhelmed by the intensity of first meetings and hide my inner soul, my quiet self; the part of me that shows up on paper and in words but needs time and space to get out. I got to meet someone on my terms. On his terms.

It took me a year to see him twice. We wrote more than two hundred thousand words back and forth before he held my hand. When I finally touched him, I knew so much about him; the physical was a cementing of the mental vibrations we’d started so long before.

When I touch his hand, I trust him, because I know how much of me he knows; I know that we’re part of an ongoing conversation, not a presentation. A meeting isn’t a finale but an exposition; it’s a time to cherish the now and explore the hundreds of conversations we’ve started.

And in New York, sitting in the corner of Blue Ginger, drinking tea and eating sashimi, I got to see him in person, the marvel of this man lighting up my quiet world as I watched him in action—the fifteen smile varieties, what makes him laugh and what made him crack up; his timidness, at times, in walking and leading; his gentle patience with decisions and his boundless kindness towards strangers; the earnestness of doing things right and making things good for those who need it.

The sun dropped fast and quickly, words expanding slowly into the blackened sky. We sat on a park bench late into the wee hours of the night that Friday in Chelsea. He paused, cleared his throat, sat up a little straighter and interrupted me:

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

“Yes,” I said, blushing. I ducked my head in nerves and then laughed.

“Yes.”

Sarah and Alex

Epilogue

I returned to San Francisco the following Tuesday, and we each agreed that this was something special and we were going to figure out how to make it work. We continued to write and travel to see each other for the next year before I packed my bags and headed to New York.

A little less than a year later, in the Monterey Cypress trees off the coast of California, I married the love of my life in a small, quiet ceremony.

Sarah and Alex

Sarah and Alex

Photographs by Melanie Duerkopp Photography

37 thoughts on “a love story.”

  1. Hello! I’m new to your page but this was such a beautiful personal story. Thank you for sharing, and wishing you enough happiness, always.

  7. Dearest Sarah,

    your writing is amazingly beautiful and your story could make it to hollywood! I love it. The meeting in a NYC train, what a “coincidence”! Wish you many more magic moments in the future, sooo happy for you both!!!

  8. The best love stories are those that are real. This is one of my most real, honest and beautiful love stories I have ever had the pleasure of reading. Thank you for sharing a piece of your heart. Here’s wishing you and your best friend a lifetime of love, a perpetual sense of wonder and a never-ending adventure. You an incredible woman and such an inspiration. I can’t wait to see what lies ahead for you!

  10. Pingback: Finally Friday! | sogugu
  11. Pingback: have a great weekend! | Girl Seeks Place

  13. Beautiful love story. I adore that you got to know each other through letters and that you followed your heart and intuition to NY. Thank you so much for sharing your heart and sharing your story with all of us here.

  14. So beautiful. People say the internet makes our interactions superficial and that we’re losing local community. But for people with fine minds and tender hearts and sensitive nervous systems, I feel like the process of acquaintance is accomplished so beautifully in writing. I am so happy for the two of you… and so grateful you’ve expressed your story in such gorgeous prose to give us a peek into the beauty that is you, plural.

  16. In a world full of cynicism, it’s a solace to read about a love story like yours. I wish you both the best of luck for the future, and a very happy married life.

  17. Congratulations, Sarah and husband! I love a great love story and this is a great love story! I wish you all the happiness in the world.

  21. Thank you, Michele! And what a lovely way of describing it — YES. Meeting via writing was so helpful for our strange and quirky minds.

  22. Thanks for reading, Jennifer! It’s a joy to share these stories, and I’m grateful I can.

  24. Awwww! Thanks, Erin! You are a wonderful soul. I love your work and your drive to make things — it’s inspiring!

  30. Ok, so upon reading this, and after 27 years of blissful marriage, my wife and I want to move far away from one another and fall in love via your version. I’m a hockey playing tough guy, and your story even made my heart flutter and race. Love it. Thanks for your poetic sense of storytelling, a true gift.

  31. Brent — how wonderful! It’s so good to hear that it tickled even you. I lived it, so I never know if my storytelling actually captures it in a way that’s interesting. It’s nice to know that it got you! Have a wonderful week.

  32. Pingback: You don’t have to do it alone. [an epic resource + event + spiritual program guide.] All my favorite programs for you, right now. | It Starts With
  33. Pingback: An Old-Fashioned Love Story with a Modern Twist (Episode #74 with Sarah K. Peck)

  34. Sarah, flicked on to your page and saw this blog headline and of course had to read! So wonderful to read and the reminders to us all how everything falls into place in just charting the true course. It’s kind of that simple right, to live “richly”. Congrats and wishing you both endless fun and great health together in no doubt fascinating lives in a tribe of wonderful people.

    P.S. How do you cope without the Bay! I can report notching up two Alcatraz crossing this year, partly inspired by hearing of what you had done in swimming during my first couple of months after arriving in San Francisco.

  36. My husband and celebrate 26 in years next month. As I read your story it reminded me so much of us. I wish you a long, happy, and loving union. Hugs and Congrats!

  37. Congratulations, Denise! Happy anniversary — I wish you another 26 years and beyond of happiness and love. :)

Comments are closed.