Mary posted about her son's first 'falling in love', a touching tribute to her boy. It made me smile. Today I had lunch with an 83 year old woman and her daughter. Carol is waiting the results of her PET scan. She has already had lung cancer. We talked about cancer, and Carol looked at me and said, with great emotion, "It doesn't matter what is going on, when I get into bed at night with my husband, I feel safe, and like everything is okay." And her eyes got teary.
There's an elderly man who visits his wife in a nursing home. She has Alzheimer's. Although she doesn't know it's her anniversary, or what an anniversary is, or remember that she's ever had one, he does. And he celebrates it with her. He knows it's their anniversary. He knows what an anniversary is, and he remembers all the other anniversaries they've ever had. He gives her a card that reads "The first kiss is special" and on the inside it read, "So are the next million." She may not remember him, but he remembers her, and loves her still.
There are many chapters in our own books of love. First love, old love, the opening chapters (which set the tone for all the chapters to follow), the hard chapters, the learning chapters, the coming togethers, the falling aparts, the raised voices, the whispers in the dark, the laughter, and the tears. Our stories probably have no value to anyone but ourselves, but we write our own stories, and we hug the books close to our chest. They are precious to us.