It was the year 2000 and my belief in love was crushed. I’d been in a five-year relationship, only to find out my ex had cheated the entire time. In some small part, I saw it as my own fault – I’d always been attracted to proverbial bad boys. Adding to the angst of being betrayed, I’d been writing novels – mysteries set in the Australian wilderness – that kept being rejected.
I was not in a sunny place. And then I met Adam.
We were randomly seated together at a dinner party and I was unable to resist his warmth. His smile was luminous, he looked like Christmas.
He was one of those rare people who listened to others with dedicated focus, making me feel like the only person at the table. And as I talked about what an awful place the world could be, Adam gently stressed the merit and beauty it possessed too, as though he intuited I needed to be reminded of the good. I was instantly attracted.
My faith had been battered and I couldn’t help but keep my guard up, but I accepted when Adam invited me out for pizza. I was flattered that he’d asked our dinner host for my number and reached out.
On our date, he was so easygoing and funny. As our relationship bloomed, we began exploring far north Queensland’s rainforests and rivers by day, then talking all night while floating in my pool.
Adam consoled me with each book rejection, while urging me not to give up. The literary world is a tough nut and I felt I needed a backup plan. So, given my love of Australian nature, I began working through certifications to become a dive instructor.
But I still had misgivings about the relationship and I couldn’t help viewing Adam’s sweet disposition with suspicion. He very much believed in gender equality and the importance of female roles in society; he never engaged in argument but calmly debated through conflict. Did men like this exist?
After a year, we moved in together, even though I kept subconsciously looking for faults. As we neared the festive season, I’d completed another dive certification.
On Christmas Day we’d planned to celebrate lunch at my best friend’s home. But when it was time to head out, Adam wasn’t ready and said he’d meet me there.
He arrived five hours late and, when he did, he requested we leave immediately. I was mortified. Finally, here was proof he’d been too good to be true! Adam’s selfish red flag had been revealed.
But then we arrived home and I saw why he had been so delayed.
To celebrate my new dive certification, Adam had built me a tropical fish tank. There on a side table in our living room stood a huge glass underwater wonderland of heartbreaking beauty. With perfect placement, he had recreated a reef of vibrant blue corals, seagrass and a rainbow of fish. He’d sacrificed Christmas to reward my achievement.
When I looked at him, I saw the love of my life. My guard went down. There was everyone else, and then there was him.
That was 25 years ago, and he still looks like Christmas every day. Plus, my books have been published. And I think they go hand in hand. When you embrace love as the lifeblood of all good things, so many wondrous things flow from it.
Our magical life together continues and I’m planning a surprise second honeymoon to thank Adam for his warmth, for his smile, for being a bright sun in what I’d perceived was a weary world.
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Samantha Ross is the author of Possible Springs, available now through Penguin (A$34.99)
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