Friday is Valentine’s Day. We each have a mental list of those we love. My compilation is headed by my husband, Ken. Songs are written about young love, and I remember the thrill of our first date, first kiss and first “I love you.” But we are experiencing the joy of old love with its contentment and satisfaction including dates, kisses and “I love you.”
One of the sayings posted on our refrigerator is “The most romantic love story isn’t Romeo and Juliet who died together…But Grandpa and Grandma who grow old together.”
Our love story began with a Ferris wheel ride when Ken was sixteen and I was fourteen. We matured separately and together by the time we married when Ken was 23 and I was 21. We take pride in the family we’ve created and enjoy their company often.
Both of us are in fairly good health but we share the limitations imposed by pushing ninety. Each of us has survived a serious illness and cope with those impositions, too.
At times we verbally disagree. I don’t subscribe to the adage, “Never go to bed mad.” I can nurse a good pout for several days. There have even been a few times during the past decades that each of us felt like walking out the door but we had no place to go so we made amends.
Ken is retired from law enforcement and I have always worked at home, whether for pay from a part-time job or the fringe benefits of being a housewife. We are usually together 24/7, but we continue to pursue our separate interests. When we are apart, such as when my husband and our son, Kurt, spend a week in April fishing at Kentucky Lake, I ‘m excited when I know he’s on his way home.
Who are your valentines?