On Thursday, I braved a torrential downpour, gale force winds and flying debris to get to my writing critique group. Negotiating the steep driveway into the condo complex alone almost gave me sailing experience, with the raging river roaring down to the bottom where it cascaded over the cement curbs to hurl itself into the open field. By the time we all finished reading our seven pages, the thunder and lightning had passed and the sky lightened to a daylight shade of gray.
As I drove home a baby-boomer couple strolled the street, hand in hand, amid fir tree debris. He wore slacks, a sports-shirt and his white hair stuck out from under a baseball cap. She wore a calf-length dress and dark sweater and sensible shoes. They picked their way out in the center of the road to avoid a dangerous grid of wet, green branches and pooled water waiting its turn to splash through the drain grating.
I slowed to ten miles an hour and let the scene imprint itself. I wondered how long they had been in love. My mind painted a picture of them in college, vowing they'd love and honor each other until death. Now, at 55 or 60, they remained together, their joined hands giving testimony to their honored vows. It touched my heart and made me smile.
Yes, yes, I know it is possible they met through an online dating service a month ago, but I prefer to think my own version is true. It gives me hope that good relationships still exist and are not diminished by time or our hectic culture. My hat is off to them.