I was at a play today–I love going to the theater and to films and it’s something I truly do not mind doing alone. Often I prefer it especially since I can’t share it with L. Unexpectedly today was definitely one of those days. The play was not one I am familiar with and I will not name it because in fact the story line was a little too close to real life for L and me. Having admitted in these pages that I feel I have not cried nearly enough let me assure you that tears were falling freely by the time the play ended.
It brought back so many memories of how L and I came together–our first meeting, our first dates, the turbulent year and a half that led up to our marriage. As in the play there were secrets we kept from each other and choices we made and times when we both thought there was no future for us–not really–but stayed in touch any way. And as all of that came flooding back I wanted so much to talk to L about it–to explore those early days from the distance of forty+ years, to hear what he was thinking then, and most of all to marvel at the miracle that over time those early struggles (and they continued into the early years of our marriage) eventually blossomed into a love story without parallel–one that sustains me every day that I am alone.
Isn’t it strange–the things that bring us comfort?