Lucky Me

On May 2nd 1981, as I hung out the laundry out back of my tiny metal box of a home in The Plains Ohio, I was thinking how content my life felt. I am sure that's the first time I had ever experienced contentment. Those feelings came from working to get my counseling degree, living on $210 a month with a little child, and driving a Chevy Luv truck so rusted the water slushed in when I was driving in rain.

That night I briefly put in an appearance (to appease my friends) at a party out by Albany, Ohio. For 29 years, life had been dealt one physical blow after another, so going to a party felt awkward and unnerving. While everyone was busy drinking beer and playing volley-ball, I made my way to the old Wheeler's barn to see the ewes with their new lambs. There it was again, a feeling of contentment.

The people at the party were all younger than me, and that added to the awkwardness. As I was trying to figure out how to leave politely, one of the volley-ball players greeted me, and from that moment on he never stopped talking. His words were music...songs I'd never heard. How could one person be so interesting? Up until that moment I thought there weren't any interesting human beings, at least not in my life.

There was a whole conversation about The Beatles (a little late for this guy's generation), followed by one about star constellations. Eventually I absolutely had to leave. I had a child, and still needed to show up at the battered women's shelter to volunteer for few weekend hours when they were under staffed.

The next morning my friends couldn't wait to call and tell me that this amazing conversationalist wanted to go on a date with me. After I finished laughing I made some snarky comment about him being too young, too good looking, blah blah blah.

Tomorrow this amazing conversationalist, and, it turns out, incredible life-partner is taking me out to celebrate 45 years together. When he asked me to marry him I firmly stated that I had demonstrated how bad I was at marriage, and besides I couldn't have children. It seemed natural that he would, at some point, resent not having kids. He looked into my heart so deeply, and with a completely straight face said, “It will be okay because you are marrying me.”

It turns out he was right. I know this because the adventure we've created and the journey we've taken have been rooted in truly enjoying each other's company, and holding hands. I do confess that I am still madly in love with this smart, clever, tender-hearted guy.

Tomorrow we will get all gussied up and go to the Blennerhassett Hotel to sit in the garden and eat a late lunch. There's a delightful bird bath there where birds take baths, and make a fuss. Right across the table, that same face I looked into 45 years ago will still be looking back at me, still looking at me like I’m the most interesting thing in the room. Lucky me.