Lifestyle

Love at Last

MoroccanHeart(1)

Ours was not a love at first sight. On a bright winter’s day, I trudged through knee-deep snow to greet you. It wasn’t until late spring, however, that I agreed to see you again.

To begin with, you were compact, rather plain, and, to my then young but critical eyes, a bit homely — nothing at all like the ideal I had carried around in my head for so long. But after our second meeting, I let caution go and decided to give you a try. “It doesn’t have to be forever,” I thought to myself.

During our first year together, we faced some serious challenges. More than once you suffered from a lack of energy that caused your lower extremities to fill with water.  And I spent more time with doctors and in hospitals than I ever could have imagined. And yet, you were stalwart—always there, patiently waiting for me to come home.

I have since learned to appreciate your modest looks and embrace your efficient and can-do approach to life. As the years passed, I helped you buff up your rough edges, gave you one or two makeovers, and then watched your quiet beauty emerge.

In return, you protected me through more physical and emotional storms than I can count. And you taught me everything I know about patience, persistence, and the value of building on what you have, rather than looking for something new.

You let me make mistakes, and I learned important lessons from each one.

Moving in with you, however, was not a mistake. Like two dancers, we developed a feel for each other’s frame and learned how to move together with grace. After 23 years of cohabitation, we both wear the patina of age.

 It is only now, as we prepare to part, dear house, that I realize how deeply I love you.

 

More from our Valentine’s Day Series

The Power of Young Love

8210336869_bab7e4a4cd_zBy Judie Rae
Richard’s math class was the hour before mine; we shared the same room as well as the same instructor. One Valentine’s Day I found a note in my locker directing me to look out the window of the math class, where I would find my Valentine gift.

An October Valentine

6877886245_3a0e1f2a15_zBy Sylvia Metzler
I always suspected that Fred’s father thought we were too young and too serious, since we had made plans to marry and depart for Africa as missionaries as soon as we grew up.

Valentine’s Day: An Intense and Tender Connection

Grace and Richie at a local dance.By Grace Graupe-Pillard
First love is the most magical, deliciously exquisite, and seductive period of one’s life, when the world actually becomes luminous without the need of the sun or the moon.

 

Join the conversation

  • Deborah Robinson May 17, 2016 at 4:49 pm

    What a lovely tribute to a home…

    Reply