True Love is...

I have a friend who is falling in love.

She honestly claims that the sky is bluer.

Mozart moves her to tears.

She has lost 15 pounds and she looks like a covergirl.

"I am young again!" she shouts exuberantly.

As my friend raves on about her new love,

I take a look at my old one.

My husband of almost 20 years, Scott has gained 15 pounds.

Once a marathon runner, he now only runs down hospital walls.

His hairline is receding and his body is showing signs of

long working hours and too much candy bars.

Yet he can still give me a look across the restaurant table

and says "I want to ask for the check and head home."

When my friend asked me, "what will make this love last?"

I ran through all the obvious reasons:

Commitment, shared interests, unselfishness,

physical attraction and communication.

Yet there's more. We still have fun. Spontaneous good times.

Yesterday, after slipping the rubberband off the roll of newspaper,

Scott flippied it playfully to me: this led to an all-out war.

Last Saturday at the grocery, we split the list and

raced each other to see who would make it to the checkout first.

Even washing the dishes can be a blast.

We enjoy simply being together.

And there are surprises.

One time, I came home to find a note on the front door

that led me to another note, and another until I reached the walk-in closet.

I opened the door to find Scott holding a "pot of gold" (my cooking kettle)

and the "treasure" of a gift package.

Sometimes I leave him notes on the mirror or little presents under his pillow.

There is understanding.

I understand why he must play basketball with the guys.

And he understands why, once a year, I must get away from the house,

the kids, and even him to meet my sisters for a few days

of non-stop talking and laughing.

There is sharing.

Not only do we share household worries and parental burdens--

We also share ideas.

Scott came home from a convention last month and

presented me with a thick, historical novel.

Though he prefers thrillers and science fiction,

he read the novel on the plane.

He touched my heart when he explained it was because

he wanted to exchange ideas about the book, after I've read it.

There is forgiveness.

When I'm embarrassingly loud and crazy at parties,

Scott forgives me.

When he confessed losing some of our savings in the stock market,

I gave him a hud and said, "it's okay, it's only money."

There is sensitivity.

Last week, he walked through the door with the look

the tells me it had been a tough day.

After he spent some time with the kids, I asked him what happened.

He told me about a 60 year old woman who had a stroke.

He wept as he recalled the woman's husband

standing beside her bed, caressing her hand.

How was he going to tell this husband of 40 years that his wife would

probably never recover? I shed a few tears myself.

Because of the medical crisis,

because there were still people married for 40 years,

because my husband is still moved and concerned after

years of hospital rooms and dying patients.

There is faith.

Last Tuesday, a friend came over and confessed her fear

that her husband was losing his courageous fight over cancer.

On Wednesday, I went to lunch with a friend who is struggling to

reshape her life after a divorce.

On Thursday, a neighbor called to talk about the frightening

effects of Alzheimer's disease to her father-in-law's personality.

On Friday, a childhood friend called long-distance to tell me her father died.

I hung up the phone and thought, "this is too much heartache for 1 week."

Through my tears as I went out to run some errands,

I noticed the boisterous orange blossoms of the gladiolus

outside my window. I heard the delighted laughter of my son

as he and his friend played.

I caught sight of a wedding party emerging from a neighbor's house.

The bride, dressed in satina and lace, tossed her bouquet

to her cheering friends.

That night, I told my husband about these events.

We helped each other acknowledge the cycles of life

and that the joys counter the sorrows.

It was enough to keep us going.

Finally, there is knowing.

I know that Scott will throw his laundry just shy of the hamper every night;

he'll be late for his appointments and will eat the last chocolate in the box.

He knows that I will sleep with a pillow over my head.

I guess our love lasts because it is comfortable.

No, the sky is not bluer; it's just a familiar hue.

We don't feel particularly young; we've experienced too much

that has contributed to our growth and wisdom,

taking its toll on our bodies, and created our memories.

I hope we've got what it takes to make our love last.

As a bride, I had Scott's wedding band engraved with Robert Browning's line,

"Grow old along with me."

We're following those instructions.

"If anything is real, the heart will make it plain."

There are some people who meet that somebody they

can never stop loving no matter how hard they try.

I wouldn't expect you to understand that, or believe it,

but trust me, there is a love that never goes away.

And maybe that makes them crazy.

but we should all be blessed to end up with somebody

who has a little of that insanity.

Somebody who never lets go.

Somebody who cherishes you, forever.