I used to be a big fan of the engagement announcements in the Sunday New York Times. Those pages were the icing on the tiered cake after reading every word of the Sunday Styles section. The fairytale stories of often unlikely and finally requited love in “Weddings/Celebrations” were often like Hallmark movie scripts. I mean, how often do two people who were in kindergarten together meet 30 years later, bungee jumping off the same river gorge bridge in Queenstown New Zealand as a part of post-divorce Me Trip? They fall in love, but work in medicine on opposite coasts so agree to buy a home exactly half way, setting up a non-profit in Waco, NE to benefit their common (surprise, surprise) interest – the disappearing Piping Plover.
All these reports of young love, happenstance and happily ever after now leave me longing. I mean who really cares about these real life love stories, except the bride and groom, bride and bride or groom and groom? I’ve been married 30 years. I had my fairytale story but come on, that was a long time ago.
Valentine’s Day can leave us feeling lonely or loved. Or, both.
I’m very fortunate that my husband and I can celebrate simply by having dinner together, toasting to our resilience, shared history and how we agree on important things, like going to bed early and staying in on Valentine’s Day. Take that, Hallmark!
This month on the 14th, I’ll actually be in Northern Michigan with my girlfriends on a snowshoeing and winery tour through the Leelanau Peninsula. My husband loves me so lets me go. That’s my kind of love story.
I hope the bungee jumpers make it to 30 years!
Enjoy this issue.
I’m loving my serious new hat from Goorin Bros., a Christmas gift from my husband and kids. Thanks, guys!