Pieces of Forever(Based on a True Story)

A certain cynicism infects some of us at an early age.

Whether it's caused by watching parents argue, seeing grandparents slink away to separate bedrooms, or witnessing even the happiest of couples spiral into the bitterest divorce, ideals of love and romance are reduced to a startling conclusion: love — that is, love equally reciprocated — does not exist over time.

Even science tells us that every seven years we've all but lost the cells we had seven years previous. We're changing, day after day, and unless the person we're with keeps up with us (that is to say: you change in sync), there's a good chance every few years you'll want to trade in the person, in much the same way you desire a new car after outgrowing the previous.

I was seven, maybe eight, when these ideas first occurred to me. A big breath of fresh air walked into my life in my late teens when an 80-something woman at my church found her way back into the arms of her high school sweetheart. And there in front of me in a nearby pew, he'd caress her hands and peck her cheek. He'd hold doors open for her, and she'd smile this wonderfully beautiful smile, her eyes twinkling.

They were proof for me that it is possible, if only for some — never mind that it took decades apart for them to pick up where they'd left off (the golden rule of cynicism dictates that if they'd spent the past 65 years together, there's a chance they'd have despised each other within 10).

But watching them together was nevertheless refreshing, and stood as a reminder that we can find comfort in other people, if only for a little while.

***I saw another such couple this past week, dining at a local restaurant. They were in their early-70s but had something in common that my previous Dido & Aeneas did not: not only were they talking and laughing at one another over the table, but they were also wearing wedding rings.

"You're always slouching," she said smiling, tugging on his fingers. "Sit up straight so you don't look like an old man."

She sat up straight, thrusting her shoulders back to demonstrate.

He smiled and complied — if only for a brief second.

"How's this?" he asked, relaxing a bit. He then grabbed her hand, his thumb resting on her wedding ring.

"Perfect," she said. "Just perfect."

Amazing! I thought. I wonder how long they've been married?

Later, after my dinner arrived and was righteously consumed, I caught them again while exiting the restaurant.

"So do you think your wife would be angry if she knew where you'd been?" the woman asked.

"Honey," he said, kissing her cheek, "I bet that miserable hag doesn't even realize I'm gone."