The happy couple circa 1975.
For those who have openly disapproved of our partnership (and those who perhaps were not as thrilled with his choice as they had hoped to be, but who kept firmly silent about it), I've got a newsflash for you: I would not have been my first choice for Lawrence either!
The happy couple circa 1982.
But guess what? It turns out that Lawrence didn't want my first choice for him, or yours either - he wanted his own first choice, which appears to have been this.
The happy couple in 2009.
Our first date three years ago wasn't intended to be a "date" at all. Having found rapport in online chat, we decided to go to Kemah Boardwalk for a 30-minute beer, just a friendly thing. When we decided to expand the meeting into a dinner, we were startled to find that all the restaurants had shut down: unnoticed by us, five hours had passed, and it was already midnight.
The rest is three years of history the outcome of which you know: what we share proved to be more compelling than our obvious differences (of which age is the more minor).
But here's something I bet you didn't know: every great relationship has room for a bit of mythology, and ours centers on the mysterious deaths of a devoted couple who shared with us exactly the same age discrepancy. Respectfully, I reproduce here a synopsis of of their story from the Texas EquuSearch website:
Bill and Martha disappeared into the waters just off Kemah Boardwalk several weeks before Lawrence and I unwittingly spent hours gazing out toward the exact place where they departed our physical world. I later wondered if perhaps their spirits grew tired of haunting that choppy water and if perhaps they saw in us an opportunity that night. Perhaps Martha saw us standing by the water's edge and exclaimed, "Look, Bill - a couple quite like us, who will raise eyebrows for some of the same reasons we did!" And with that, their spirits rose up from that water, vaulted over the dock railing, and streamed through us as they departed on the last leg of their journey to the next place, and as they did so, they left behind in us some of the great love that they shared, for it was better for such spirits to touch the living than to remain in a restless bay.
Probably not, but it's a warm and enchanting bit of revisionist imaginative history.
Or is it?? I had to interrupt the writing of this blog entry to take Cayley to school this morning. As we dashed out the door, I got a spectacular view of the pot of gold at the end of my existential rainbow. Was it solely a meteorological phenomenon, or was it Bill and Martha's way of re-emphasizing??