Deferring

When we were about eighteen years old (and obsessed with self-analyzing), we came up with these ridiculous relationship-centered definitions for ourselves. They were another way of identifying who we were, based on what we needed in a relationship.

For Dez, her assigned motto was that she, "needs a man that she could defer to." Yesterday, she declared to God and the rest of the world that that man would be Kevin Lee.

"Defer to? What the heck does that mean?" my eighteen-year-old self said incredulously. Can turned to me, prequeling her wisdom with the trademark phrase, "The thing is, Andy" and offered to enlighten. "It means she trusts him to do what needs to get done, even if she could do it herself." If anyone knows Desiree, they know her to be extremely competent. And it's not because she's a doctor, it's actually because she's Dez and the doctor jacket just fit the person. The running joke throughout all the bridal showers and wedding speeches was Dez's lack of cooking skills. As one of the few people who've eaten Dez's cooking, I actually don't think she's that bad. We used to cook dinner for each other while living together at Queen's (some of my fondest memories were in that slanty, squirrel infested house), and I remember eating a pretty good stew on occasion. And she sure could stir fry up a mean beef and broccoli. More than that, she always knew how to keep the wok oiled - and how to operate the slow cooker. All of which is evidence of someone who doesn't deserve to be butchered about cooking.

In fact, I've never known Desiree to not be able to do anything. Growing up, she drove us in her little red car everywhere. To our first real lunch at the Cheesecake Cafe, when we were fifteen years old and in the midst of our first set of final exams. To all of our subsequent birthday dinners. To our first road trip.

So then I still didn't understand why she would need someone to defer to. Why defer? Why not, "Desiree needs someone she can trust?" Tru turned to me, her head slightly tilted to the side and in her quiet unassuming voice said, "An, deferring to someone connotes something so much more than just trust. For example, Dez needs someone who can do her taxes, not because she trusts them to be able to do them but also because she WANTS them to do it for her."

The phrase hit home. In the years I've known Desiree, I've known her to be capable, consistent, and confident. Characteristics which are not traditionally "see-mun," - the chinese embodiment of the "it" girl - if you give it a quick character sketch and read some of our high school epithets. But if you consider her name, Desiree, it also connotes a part of her that only few get to see. It's the part of her that is a woman, soft and quiet and supportive and wise. It's the part of her that seeded that day on the grassy knole across from her pink Edgemont house and continued to grow throughout her courtship with Kevin and will continue to flower in their marriage for the rest of their lives. It's the wife, who defers to her husband.

Congratulations, Desiree and Kevin Lee. I love you both.