Marie and I have a date

We hung the "Do not disturb" sign on the blog yesterday. Marie and I had a companionable dinner with Captain John Livingstone (U.S.Army, retired) and his wife Nancy, then we spent the night together at The Peppertree Inn off Allen Blvd and Highway 217. In a peaceful courtyard just off the pool, the room was clean and quiet, and it was wonderful to have an entire night together.

Marie looked elegant and irresistible tonight. She made a stunning entrance at dinner, arriving a few minutes late in a black pencil skirt with a ruffle at the hem that showed off her wondrous figure, and a black and white print blouse. I felt a shiver of delight when I saw her, and another shiver the first time I kissed her neck. Her hair was up with a few little curls dangling down, and every curl had its own music. The shivers have never died, and won't.

My devotion to her and need for her is absolute and indivisible. Remember that love doesn't divide; it only multiplies. No matter how much I love other things, my interests and hobbies, my desire to write, my bright,alive children and grandchildren; my love for this woman will be the exponential force and the dynamic driving energy of everything I do until I die. I live to please her and make her proud. I exercise to be the delight of her eyes. She is the fulfillment of all my hopes and the extravagant reward of a God who loves me far beyond my deserving, merciful and full of grace.

To lie with her again and hold her again, and wake up to the sight of her taking her hair down at the mirror, was far more hope and beauty than any man could deserve or absorb in one lifetime: I opened my eyes as far as I could, and waded out into the River of Life as deeply as I could swim. I felt the exquisite rush of the waters around me, warm and soothing and youthifying. We plunged deeply into them and into each other, and emerged whole and bonded, ready for the sleep of Angels. My hope and my joy, renewed and sealed forever.

Last night was the 16th, exactly two years and 10 months since the night we met. Every relationship has its own mystical, curious numerology, dates that repeat with the irresistible rhythm of the downbeat in a good jazz tune, a harmony played by your guardian angels. I met Marie a week and two months after my mother died and as I got to know and love her I felt she had been a gift from a guardian angel. The gift, and my wonder at its tender mercies, have increased 12-fold over time. We have packed more passion and experience into three years than I ever dreamed I could have, and the three years are not yet completed. If I could have twenty more, or twenty days, I could die a happy man.

I need her. Somehow we have to throw off the circumstances and fears that have forced us to separate places. We need to make a home again, and decorate it with harmony and tenderness, light candles on the window ledges like we did in the glorious first weeks of our fevered rush into each other's lives. A pepper sprout stuffed with melted cheese, and we ate it whole and washed it down with the milk of comfort and desire.

How we fit together in every detail, our ages, our interests, our values and experience, and as two passionate electrified athletes in a dance of joy. Marie is a refuge and her golden hair is an unquenchable flame of hope in my heart, and when this trial ends I never want to be apart from her again.

I would give anything to write and accomplish something with my writing, so that we could be together and live a life where we could work in the same space and infuse our lives with this spirit of shared adventure and intense cooperation, begin the day with a drink on the deck, she coffee and me green tea, taking sips of each other in the quiet of a delicious morning. A walk after breakfast, her hand enfolded in mine, a nap, a game of golf, and 10 hours a day to write and read and discover the voice that lies within me, the good pure true voice that sings directly to your heart and hers. I want it, and that life with her, more than anything. I practiced a little more today and I hope it was a small blessing to you. Thanks for taking the time to read, and please come again.