I’ve been married to DH for almost seven wonderful years. We’ve had many great adventures, many small triumphs and a few tragedies. He’s everything I ever wanted. But this Valentine’s Day, I’m spending the evening with an old love.
I didn’t plan the timing of our reunion - that was purely chance. But it’s exactly right.
We met in kindergarten and remained close even through high school, my love and I. In college, I took our relationship to the next level. After graduation, we kept our connection alive - until we didn’t. Too many heartbreaks, phone calls not returned, missed connections did the initial damage. In Los Angeles, I met a woman - a casting agent, as it happened - who showed me the darker side to my love.
And when I found myself in tears at a washing machine commercial, watching a smiling mother put her child’s muddy sneakers directly into the machine, conveniently located next to the open back door revealing a lovely garden, and thinking to myself, “I will never have that, if I keep going like this,” I severed all ties.
Twenty years passed. I launched a career, traveled, married, launched another career, with rarely a thought for my old love. I became part of a city until I couldn’t do it anymore, and moved to the country.
And found my old love, around a corner, a block off Main Street.
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