Brief brush with long-married couple an inspiration.
I love love. I may not have had the best of luck with it, and I’m not without blame. Lately, more than ever, I believe that an amazing love is out there for me, and that hope will sustain me in the dark hours.
This past week, I went out with friends to the Whisky Barrel for dinner. With the coziness of the dining area, it’s quite easy to start chatting with those at neighbouring tables. From my left, I got a drink recommendation, and from the table on my right I got #couplegoals.
During our meal, the older gentleman, who we learned later was named Ray, at the table to my right, leaned over and said: “Ladies, can you convince our lovely wives that we should get the whisky ice cream for dessert?” The four of them were anticipating our response; these two married couples, who had been best friends their whole lives.
I suggested that if there was debate, one ice cream with four spoons might be the answer (not knowing if the question had come our way out of health concerns, financial ones, or something else). We laughed when one of them said: “Or we could get two with two spoons in each to share.” Ray then mentioned impishly that he was getting close to the end of his trail (life-wise). We responded: “Then you should get all the ice cream!”
I eavesdropped for the next couple minutes of their conversation, and ice cream was not discussed again. With that, I got up stealthily and asked the waiter to send the lovebirds two whisky ice creams on me. We continued with our meal and conversation.
When the desserts were presented, their table was quite touched that we had ordered and paid for them. My table asked how the heck I’d pulled that off. The second gentleman then said: “This was so very special; you have no idea, but we’re celebrating our 60th wedding anniversary tonight.” With that, there may have been something that got in my eye … yup… a tear.
My table erupted with congratulations for them, and I made the heart symbol with my hands over my chest and I said “#couplegoals.” I went on to explain that I would never be so lucky as to have a 60th wedding anniversary, but that with recent events, I was hoping to celebrate a 40th one day. I revelled in their joy.
Ray said that we should have seen what a fox his wife was in high school. She rolled her eyes, and slapped at his hand, telling him: “Oh, stop that.” The love between them was so strong it almost had physical form. I couldn’t help but wipe away something else that had gotten into my eye.
Witnessing that lifelong love and friendship was everything. I had a moment of clarity, that I would never do anything again that might get in the way of me getting that for myself when I was old and grey.
When we went to pay our bill, long after we’d said our goodbyes to the inspiring lovebirds, we were informed that Ray had taken care of our whole tab. I was genuinely shocked and humbled. Seven of us left the Whisky Barrel that night with contentedly full bellies and a lovely story to tell of kindness, karma, and love.
I was going to share one of my favourite movies (Bridges of Madison County) with someone recently, to hear Clint Eastwood, who plays Robert Kincaid say: “This kind of certainty comes but once in a lifetime.” I didn’t get the chance, so I’ll watch it alone and focus on another great Kincaid quote: “The old dreams were good dreams; they didn’t work out, but I’m glad I had them.”
Love doesn’t have to be complicated, but sometimes it is.
And I’ll tell you a secret. Ready? Pssst… I still love love.