Amo, Amare, Amavi

“Luck is believing you’re lucky.”
-Tennessee Williams

   I am perhaps the luckiest person alive today.  Today I got a true example of what love is.  First, I was at Target with my mother, and we saw a shoe sale…and this was no ordinary shoe sale.  The shoes I bought today were six dollars a pair.  I thought I was in love.
     Any and all love I have felt so far in my life is trivial compared to the love that my parents have for me and for each other.  Today is their 35th wedding anniversary, and they have been dating since they were fifteen years old.  Now, don’t get it twisted, my parents are NOT lovey dovey.  My mother does not spend her time slaving over a hot stove, getting dinner just right for my dad, and my dad does not puff his chest up as the authoritarian and head of our household.  Not that there’s anything wrong with families like those.  That type of family just isn’t MY family.  My mother and father are equal players in their marriage and their parenting, and they breathe and live solely for me.  Looking back, I can not remember a single holiday, vacation, birthday, or anniversary that my parents spent without me.  While my friend’s parents went on cruises or dinner dates alone, leaving them behind, MY family took me along, cherishing every moment I was with them.  I am so lucky and blessed to be my parent’s entire world.  
     Less sappy…We went out to dinner to celebrate my parent’s anniversary.  We decided to go to a seafood place in Chesapeake.  We got there, ate delicious food, and we all had a good time.  There was a couple next to us that looked like a poster of Podunk, America.  The woman was a larger woman with bouffant hair and entirely too much lip liner.  She was wearing some loud colored jeweled pants suit, and the man was wearing large-framed glasses and an awful polo shirt.  During their meal, a man came over to the table and he and the lady began to talk to each other.  If was obvious that they had known each other way back when because they immediately began to talk like old friends.  They spoke about his teaching job and she told him about her husband’s death two years back.  They spoke like they had never left each other’s company.  The man talked to this woman for about seven or eight minutes.  I noticed the man’s wife, who looked put together in a Earth-toned pants suit and sensible shoes, look antsy as her husband spoke to this boisterous, loudly dressed woman.  She finally got up and came over to the table, and said something along the lines of, “oh I’m no good with names…how have you been?,” after which the man promptly went back to his table.  The wife had obviously had enough of her husband talking to this woman, and she wanted him back at the table.  I detected the faintest hint of sadness in the larger woman’s voice when she said “Take care of yourself, Freddy.”  
     This conversation seemed too important for me to not notice.  I feel like too often the big, blustery woman with the lip liner gets dismissed by the small, uptight woman in the Earth tones.  I could see obvious sadness in the lip-liner woman…it almost hurt to see the conversation end.  I felt like the woman never stood a chance.  Society never gave her a chance.  Sometimes I’m secretly afraid that I’ll end up like the blustery woman…courting a sensible man even though I think I’m meant for someone who shines.  I never want to be as sad as that lady sounded tonight.
     In other news…I bought great clothes today…GREAT shoes.  Pictures to come later.



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