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!
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?