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A quote: “The good life is a process, not a state of being. It is a direction not a destination.” ~~ Carl Rogers
I’ll start with a story …
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They were strangers five minutes before their first dance. They moved together across the floor as if cherished lovers, finally reunited.
Their first dance as husband and wife filled the small reception hall with such emotion, wedding guests went home in the afterglow to hold their loved ones close.
There is joy in their years. And sorrow. Children to be loved and let go. And always, they dance.
She puts on their favorite record, softly humming, she slips into the hospital bed now in the living room where he lays and puts her arms around him for one last dance.
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe Stock, standard license.
cold pizza says: “As a man thinks, so he is.”
I reflected on the Proverb as Denver slowly vanished in the rear mirror, leaving only the peaks of the Rockies slowly bending towards the horizon as headed East on I-70.
We’d tried to help the kids, but they were bogged down with work and families. We’d watched them become miserable as their own children grew up, toxicity spreading.
I breathed deeply the October coolness and grinned. Laura smiled back.
No more internet arguing. No more cable news rage. The house sold, cords cut, bickering behind us.
I’ve always wanted to visit the Florida Keys.
Navig8r says: I really don’t like this new rock and roll music.
But dear, we promised our grandson. He is calling the station and dedicating this song to us.
“Tat-ta-tata, tata ta ta”
Ok, kinda catchy, not raunchy so far.
He said it is a group called the Beatles.
The band names they come up with these days.
“Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m 64?”
Oh my! Remember when we were 64?
That was a long time ago.
“And this is dedicated to my grandparents who are not 64, but actually celebrating their 64th wedding anniversary”
Sheila Garrett says: It was a beautiful day, with a bright blue sky and white puffy clouds. The radio played on the Oldies station as they drove, and she sang along in tune, each word perfect.
“Do you remember?” she would say, then tell a story about the kids; about when they dated; about their friends in high school.
“Such a beautiful day,” she said as they pulled up to the door of the home. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Yes, it was,” he agreed, and smiled as he told her his name.
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