A Love Story of the Uncommon Kind

A love story of the uncommon kind is still going on after many moons. Why is it uncommon? There are too many reasons to list here, but before my husband came into my life, the longest dating relationship usually only lasted a year.

By the second time I saw him, I began feeling that he was a sincere person. An almost cynical bachelorette, I expected to hear some worn out old "pick up" lines, but his charming ways turned out to be authentic.

He displayed a kind of a wizardry that amazes me to this day.

When I saw him using an old fashioned divining rod to trace a water line, he had me forever after. A kind of magical aura surrounds him, but it was also complimented with practical thinking. His caresses make me feel like I'm in the safest place in the whole world. From the very beginning, we were a perfect fit.

As in Kahill Gibran's description of the sanctity of love, we became like the two pillars supporting the temple of love.

With his intuitive way, our beginning happened because he gave me space. Coming on like gang busters was something I would never tolerate back in the dating days. Somehow, he knew this about me, and I didn't feel threatened with the loss of my identity.

Golda (my cat named after Golda Meir,) and I were cohabitating in the middle of a veritable cornfield in a mobile home. It doesn't sound like much, but it was mine, and I loved being in the country. The big old trailer was always in need of maintenance, and he offered to help.

With making such a kind offer, he got my attention.

Earlier, he asked me to go out on a date boating on Lake Erie. It was really tempting, but I felt I didn't have time. Then he offered up a deal. If he would take on a few maintenance chores, I'd have the free time to go boating with him. I agreed.

Still, I didn't want to get attached, so I made a wily plan for the day of the arranged maintenance work. I would dress in the most ridiculous outfit that I could muster up, reasoning that he wouldn't like me so much after that.

Preparing for his arrival, I donned a Hawaiian style Mumu with big bold red and orange flowers. Adding bobby socks and tennis shoes almost completed the fashion statement. The clincher was when I topped it off with a big green straw hat.

While he worked on the roof, I was below mowing the lawn. Every once in a while, I'd look up to see his reaction and have a silent giggle under the brim of the green straw hat.

Since the horrible outfit didn't deter the love story that transpired, I knew he was more than capable of sincere commitment. That was many moons ago, and he's still the one special love. The Hawaiian frock is tucked away in a drawer forever to be. It's a wonderful reminder of our grand, funny and still romantic love story.