We live in very rural Virginia. Of the folks our age, many were born and raised here and married their high school sweethearts. I was wondering what it felt like to have the same partner through all the different phases of life, as they did. That led to this story.
Young Love, Old Love
How fortunate are those who find the one they love, early in life, and keep that loved one throughout the years.
In our youth, each of us was so beautiful and handsome in our fit, eager bodies. So full of hope and belief in the future.
And when that love has seen us through the years, and we are old, how magical that we can look at each other and not see the years mirrored as others see them.
Behind the gray locks and wrinkled cheeks, each of us can still see the essence of what attracted us decades before. The twinkling eyes . . . the slender neck . . . the laughter at silly humor and private jokes.
Your friends see an old man telling stories of how things used to be. I see a high school jock scoring the winning points. My friends see a woman beyond her prime, fighting gravity and wondering where the years have gone. You still call me beautiful and touch my face with a gentleness that speaks volumes.
How wonderful to find that the best part of young love is the joy and fulfillment of old love.
Bill and I were at a local dance on a Saturday night date. We were smooching it up, and a young woman came over and called us “cute.” She seemed to assume that ours was one of those golden year marriages, and she was impressed that we were still so affectionate. She smiled some more and asked how long we had been married. When I answered, “Two years,” her face fell with disappointment. Apparently, loving gestures don’t count if you’re practically newlyweds.