A funny thing happened yesterday and I planned to write about it today.  But now it feels completely irrelevant.  It doesn’t “sing”.  And so it shouldn’t be told.

The events of the day are being overwhelmed by me falling in love.  I’m wobbly, taken somewhere not remembered.  Right now I just don’t know anything.

The last time I fell in love was in 1984.  Almost 40 years ago!  It felt like slow motion – a two-year friendship sliding into a deep joining.  Today it’s a plummeting, a topsy turvy free fall.  My mind is spinning, along with the rest of me.

Rather than “It could work,” my brain shouts “This is it!”  The gaze between us holds … and holds some more.  There’s no foreground silhouetted by a background.  There’s just This!  These eyes.

Last night we cuddled as we drank in the feisty girl known as Anne with an E.  The 13-year-old on Netflix speaks her mind without thought and searches again and again for a “kindred spirit”.  And I’m nestled next to one!

How long it’s been since I last watched TV with the two of us on the middle seat of a three-person couch.

The touch of skin in the far nighttime … so soft.  Feeling the rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps.  What wonder!  What privilege.

Many a time over the last nine years I thought that romance would be no more.  Too old.  Now I shake my head: “Stupid man.”

And then the morning, setting off on a walk in Ghent.  Her hand swinging by her side, and mine by mine.  I reach over.  She takes my offered fingers.  And we stroll into the next chapter of our lives.

What will become of us?

Let’s ask Enya …

Who can say where the road goes
Where the day flows
Only time
And who can say if your love grows
As your heart chose
Only time

We begin …