Mrs. Rodius and I went to breakfast yesterday. We've been together for fifteen years, married for almost twelve. The couple that sat at the table next to ours took me back to those early days of our relationship, days when we regularly sickened those around us with the giddiness of our love. We prided ourselves on how often we made Mrs. Rodius' sister roll her eyes and tell us to "get a room." I almost believed that our love was different from the more mundane loves of other people, that we would remain giddy in our love together forever. Of course, we didn't. Love changes over time, as it must. Better writers than I have written on how the raging river of passion mellows over time into a deeper, broader lake. But as I watched the couple next to us yesterday, I remembered those days.
They smiled like maybe they couldn't stop. They touched like that, too; hand to hand, finger to arm, foot to foot. I watched them surreptitiously, but I needn't have bothered; they seemed not to know that anyone else was in the room. They talked and talked, about what I do not know. I'm sure it was vitally important, and completely meaningless.
It came to me then that there are moments in our lives when we are lit as if by a spotlight by the sanctity of our condition.
3 comments:
I followed you here from your funny comment at Fussy, and found this lovely gem. Well done, sir!
And I followed you here from your comment on Franklin5.
Other authors may have written about the raging rivers of love, but you did it proud.
Indeed, you did.
...and I found you from your comment on Mommy's in a Timeout.
Good work, great observations!
Best wishes on your healthy lifestyle beginning and on the impending arrival of Baby Rodius.
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