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  • It’s 1976.

    It’s February. I’m 16. Mam dies. It’s November. He’s 20. His Dad dies.

    Two people who never met become graveyard neighbors.
    A year passes, then two, our worlds intersect at the annual commemoration of the locally departed.

    “How are things?” he asks.

    ”Good,” I answer and, “What have you been up to?”
    Our annual conversation…. until 1982.

    “Do you fancy meeting up?” he asks.

    “Sure, when?” I reply.

    “Next Wednesday,” he responds.

    What heady mind-racing passion! What day is it? Who cares! This is love!
    We marry.

    Kids come. Years pass. Life happens. Passion quietens. Now this is love!

    Twenty-nine Valentine’s days – a card here and there – often forgotten – love’s still there, though.

    The quiet moments, the private jokes, the small tokens, the understanding, the support,
    opinions that matter, advice given and taken, the laughter! Now this is love!
    I wonder do their spirits nod in mutual approval?

    Perfect destiny!
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