12-07-2024 11:01pm

Memories Fall Like Snowflakes

Lesley Misko Editor

[ 2024 Editor's note -- In a little more than one hour, it will be December 8, 2024. I wrote the article below on December 8, 2022. I hope readers will be patient with my decision to share it again; I feel that I need to because it makes my husband "real" again. It is a tribute to him, and to what would have been our 46th anniversary. It is fitting that the first snowflakes of the season flew outside my windows the other day. December 8 will always be my "day of snowflakes."

[2023 Editor's note -- A year ago, I was inspired to write this after seeing a friend's comment on Facebook. Two days ago I was searching The Expression for an article we previously published. The search feature for The Expression is frustrating. It often doesn't locate what you're seeking, so it was not surprising that it didn't locate what I wanted, ... but instead it offered me three other previously published articles and this was one of them. I took it as an invitation to share it once again.Today, December 8, would have been my 45th wedding anniversary.]

by Lesley Misko

I saw it because my name was mentioned.

Written Oct. 29, 2022, Beth Forney Glick’s (Glick's Nursery) Facebook post simply said: “Lesley, I can’t help but think about Robert as I cut these out. He taught me how to make a proper six- sided snowflake when I was in 10th grade.”

A little further down the page, in response to someone’s question, Beth further explained, “Robert Misko was cutting out true 6-sided snowflakes to decorate his bulletin board when I was in 10th grade in a study hall, and I asked him how to do that and he showed me and I’ve been cutting them out ever since.”

I appreciated that Beth directed her memory of my husband for me to read, but I couldn't respond. I read her words and was transported back in time. Her words unearthed my memories.

Robert taught me about snowflakes too.

On our wedding day: December 8, 1978.

Our wedding was a simple thing: Robert picked me up at my house and off we went to the Colebrookdale justice of the peace, Arthur Herb, and he married us.

I had been married before, too young, to a guy my mother adored. She was very happy. I wasn’t. It was the perfect June wedding with me in a bridal gown and lots of guests and a beautiful dinner. The marriage was not beautiful and it didn’t last. So for me, this was the second time, and I purposely picked December, the opposite of June. December felt like an enduring month.

I didn’t feel a need for a big bash again. We were poorly paid teachers and it seemed like a waste. Also uncertain about how to navigate the need for a rabbi and a priest, we decided a legal ceremony rather than a religious was a good solution.

Robert came to pick me up at my small row house in Reading. I’d like to think I made a somewhat elegant entrance, walking down the stairs that were carpeted in red that contrasted with the white woodwork of the railing. We were both dressed up for dinner at one of the more exclusive area restaurants. I remember suddenly feeling kind of shy and awkward, and not knowing what to say.

I sat down on the second to last step and Robert stood there looking down at me. Then he reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small, wrapped box with a bow and handed it to me. He told me to open it, so I unwrapped the package and opened the box. Inside there was a beautiful silver snowflake on a necklace and matching silver snowflake earrings. I felt cherished. His gift was so unexpected, so thoughtful. It was so special of him to memorialize our December wedding day in that way. He helped me put on the necklace and the earrings, and we went to get married.

Though we were alone for the brief ceremony, we came out to find some special friends standing at the car with a cake and champagne and flowers. They had planned to leave the items in the car while we were being married, but Robert had locked the car doors, even though we were in the police parking lot, so things got off to a funny start and off we went to begin our life together.

Years later, for a special anniversary, I received a new snowflake necklace, this one with diamonds that sparkled. He forgot lots of things over the years, but neither of us ever forgot the snowflakes he gave me 44 years ago today.

I’d like to think that like the snowflakes, he is still here with me.