10 December 2009

More love

Another story about love, just can't resist. Still feeling all sentimental after the last love story (sniff sniff). This one is also a true tale, with pretend names.

Barbara was 52 and her husband had died. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. They were supposed to live their golden years together. Spoil their grandson, enjoy trips to Florida in their retirement, putter around the house and garden, hold hands, kiss. But cancer had changed all that. His death left her without an identity, floating, anxious, fearful. Every day brought sadness and every night brought tears of loneliness and anger.

She had to reconstruct her life, so to begin, she remodeled her house. It was an excellent metaphor for the more important task at hand, and the decision making that accompanied each building project served as practice for the decisions she needed to make in her own life journey. She started a new profession and gained competency. She started liking herself. She started noticing other people, other men, and they noticed her too.

A longtime neighbor suggested introducing Barbara to a friend that the neighbor had known since high school, Bob. Bob was divorced, stable, a hard worker and had been a good friend for many many years, however, he lived out of state. Barbara didn’t know, but the neighbor persisted. Gentle reminders every now and then. One particular day, Bob happened to be in town on business and had made arrangements to meet his high school chum for dinner. She invited Barbara. She insisted. Barbara agreed but was fraught with anxiety. It felt like a blind date, transporting her back to the last time she actually had a date, in her teens. An awkward age with little knowledge of the world and less knowledge of her own desires or needs in a relationship.

Dinner went smoothly. Bob entered into conversation easily without monopolizing it. His manners, a product of a proper southern upbringing, made her feel secure and special, cherished, even. He called the following day to thank her for her company and sent flowers. She was touched and overcome by this prelude to what appeared to be old fashioned courtship and had a case of nerves as big as Texas. She called to thank him for the flowers; he said he would call her in a couple of days. And he did; they made plans to see each other the following weekend. He stayed in a nearby hotel and orchestrated a comfortable agenda for their weekend entertainment, she only needed to change her clothes, spray on some perfume and grab her purse.

Falling in love was easy, but did not come without the stings of uncertainty or fear. Their romance continued for several years; they found a happy stability and both were sure that this happiness was something they wanted to nurture in their hearts, in their daily lives. So Barbara sold her house and moved to another state to be with him. She left the house in which she had lived for thirty years, her family, her neighbors and friends. She moved to a place where she knew no one, had no family and had to begin cultivating friends again like she was the new kid in school. It was stressful, but she persevered, then blossomed.

Bob and Barbara married. They take care of each other, laugh and fuss. But mostly they celebrate their days together. They value each other and they cherish the sparkling moments of happiness littered throughout each loving day of their lives.

No comments:

Post a Comment