Monday, May 31, 2010

Eight Years!

“Ain’t life grand?” My Nanny used to say at eighty, while she crossed her legs, hiked up her skirt to show her knees, and sipped a glass of brandy.

Yes indeed.

I had met my Norman at a party one month earlier and after exchanging some rather mind boggling information that revealed how our paths had crossed twenty-five years before, I had decided that we absolutely were not going to go down any road together. I was not going to be railroaded by anyone, and that includes the universe!

Then my Nina and her love, Mario, came to visit me and be with me for the sprinkling of my beloved golden retriever, Julius’ ashes in his favorite mountain meadow. I had not been ready for this before, but suddenly I was, and so they came. We had a glorious visit, complete with a wild Rocky Mountain May snowstorm, and then a picnic and a final farewell to Julius.

I had scheduled a friend to accompany us on the midnight trek back to the Denver airport but at the very last minute he ducked out. What to do? I didn’t feel comfortable driving these roads alone at night and so I spontaneously called up Norman. Without a moment’s hesitation the new plan to escort Nina and Mario to their red eye flight was hatched and in play.

We four drove in the moonlight through the Colorado backroads from Boulder to Denver. Nina and Mario in the backseat, Norman and I in the front. Nina had forever nixed any male who crossed our family thresh-hold who was a possible romantic interest for me. I didn’t consider Norman to be in this category and so on this night I slipped into a peaceful lull as the easy conversation between Norman and the two back seat riders droned on and on. Then, suddenly we were at the airport.

In a flurry, Nina and Mario leapt out of the car, scooped up their bags and we all hugged our ‘good-byes’. As Nina and I held each other she whispered into my ear “Earth to Mom, this guy’s great” and then disappeared into the departure crowd.

As Norman and I drove back to Boulder I watched him in the moonlight as Nina’s words echoed in my brain and the veils lifted from my eyes. As he drove we talked about Nina and Mario and life and a soft sensation of companionship enveloped me and I felt quietly as if I’d handed over the reigns of my responsibilities, just for a few moments. It felt good. When we pulled up into my driveway we sat, and then I took his hand in mine and slid over and kissed him.

And they lived happily ever after.

The moral of this story is: Wake up! And listen to your daughters when the moon is full.

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