Silliness. Tuesday is St. Valentine’s Day. A large group of Boogerettes and our husbands/significant others (let’s go ahead and call them “Boogers”) are going out to dinner Tuesday evening at a favorite lake restaurant, Daphne’s. It’s kind of an annual outing for all of us, and promises to be a fun- and food-filled evening (the best kind). The ladies will try to wear something red (always a problem for me because I don’t own anything red – not even a scarf since I lost mine somewhere between our visit to Julie and Matt’s in Ormond Beach and home). The guys will dress up – which means they’ll trade jeans or shorts in on a pair of khakis and swap out University of Georgia t-shirts for something a little less casual. Heck, they might even slap on a little after-shave (Note to self: buy Ted some Aramis – my personal favorite and always guaranteed to get me in a happy mood). We’ll all laugh through dinner, tell silly stories, and leave the restaurant pleasantly full and happy that Cupid gave us a great reason to get together.
Sacred. This afternoon Ted and I rode about a mile down our street to visit a lady who lost her husband last Sunday. He was 77. We were casual friends with this couple. We live on the same street, and sometimes we’d go to the same church. We actually saw the husband a lot more than his wife because nearly every day he passed our place, walking their dog. His illness took him fast – not quite three months after his diagnosis – and we sat and listened this afternoon as she told us about his final few days. She said, when he’d seem to be uncomfortable, she’d talk to him about a much enjoyed trip they took a couple of years ago. They had planned that trip for a long time, been gone two weeks, and made some wonderful memories. “It seemed to calm him,” she said. As we left, she hugged us both and said, “Keep doing what you love – visiting that island you love so much and coming back to the home you love here. In years to come, those memories will mean more than you know.”
When I’m in the presence of couples who have gone the distance together, loved and honored through thick and thin, sickness and health, I almost feel as though I’ve been in a holy place. The wisdom they impart is worth listening to – always.
Ted and I held hands riding home. We’ve been married only 23 years, even though we’re in our 60’s. But one thing I know we’ve made together are wonderful memories – of joined families, trips taken, homes enjoyed, and friends made and loved in two places almost 1200 miles apart. Being married to my best friend makes everything we do together more loving, more fun . . . more special. I pray we have many, many more years together to be silly, love each other, hold hands and make memories.
Happy Valentine’s Day, Ted. I love you.