This week's writing prompt is "love."
I'm a lucky woman. I am currently together with the love of my life. Gregory is my best friend, my lover, my confidant, and all things far far more than a boyfriend. Good grief, at my age it seems silly to call him a "boyfriend." I'd prefer to say "lover," but I can just see the raised eyebrows and hear the gossipy clucking in the background. What do you call this at my age? Well, I don't really care. I'm just wicked happy to be having to ask the question.
Never in my entire existence did I entertain the slightest notion that I would meet someone who I not only adore, but with whom I enjoy doing everything. One of our favorite outings is going to Ralph's to get groceries. Very sexy date. We never run out of things to talk about. I love just being with him no matter what we are doing.
Neither of us is perfect. Together we come as close to perfection as I've ever experienced. I love him to the moon and back. He makes my heart beat faster while he takes my breath away - both expressions of impending cardio infarction as well as love - but in our case, it's love. How I scored winning the love lottery at the age of 60 is a miraculous and wondrous thing.
Now I understand what it means to let the little things go. Now I understand what it means to be be appreciated for exactly who I am, dorkiness - snoring - and other things less than cool and sophisticated, as well as the good things. He notices all of it and hands it back to me wrapped in his arms. How lucky am I.
Sweet to say the least. And I met this man because of the other current love of my life. My son.
A year ago my son, Ben, sat me down and said "Mom. I'm in high school now. I'm not going to be around forever. I'll be gone soon. You have to get a life. Go get a life. Get a boyfriend."
Fourteen-years-old then, going on forty, this child said this to me. Because I fully intended to stay a divorced single mom and laser focus on finishing his rearing until after high school graduation. Which is probably why he was motivated to say this. Child needed some space. He is the reason I went online and after three months of sifting through frogs, toads and assholes, I found Gregory. Who found me. Hooray for us!!!
My love affair with this awesome child began when I found out I was pregnant. At 44 years of age I figured that I was probably infertile and Ben's dad (my husband at the time) and I had gone through very expensive testing. I had the test where they fill your uterus with water to see if it is viable for gestation. The doctor said I was likely done producing enough viable eggs for conception, so she sent us home to wait while she found a suitable egg donor.
I was pregnant the home grown way two weeks after that appointment.
This amazing creature was born to me 15 years ago, when I was 45 years old and, at the time, still stunted in my understanding and experience of what love is.
I'm sure there are other women out there who have had children. Though I do have serious doubts. When I held that little bundle in my unshowered, exhausted arms, I was filled with an overwhelming love that left my body and followed his every move, growth spurt, first words, etc. etc. How on earth could it be possible to love another creature so much? I was convinced that I was the first person ever to have a baby grow and emerge from my human body to walk the earth so brilliantly.
Before these two best and last loves came into my life, I had known love, of course. But only marginally. And certainly tainted and stunted by the traumatic events endured in my childhood.
I am grateful to have been a fighter. This brought me here today.
I am grateful to have known true friends who helped push and guide me back into the fight.
I am grateful to have not been killed prematurely by a meteor, other natural disaster or murderous in-laws, before fully realizing these loves.
For me, nowadays, love is an active verb that I experience and express in and through my body, heart and whole self that ends my days with only two words.
Here's Gregory's and my song -