In my last post, I offered a condensed, Reader’s Digest version of my last relationship. As with any such account, it is only one version of the story. Gwen, of course, surely has her own.
As it turns out, at one point, she told it. In 2022, she gave me a copy of Tiny Love Stories: True Tales of Love in 100 Words or Less, and inside she wrote a 90-word account of our first three years together. Given how often we broke up and then found our way back, I cannot say exactly where we stood at the time, or even what prompted the gift.
She entitled this “Karma.”
We met on my 65th birthday, two self-contained people looking for a spark, maybe love. And we found it, with a depth of recognition and connection that felt like tendrils reaching centuries back. Potent love was never in doubt. But however strong, that love didn’t pave over centuries-old rutted roads and ensure a gentle ride this time around. Alexander Pope says Hope Springs Eternal. That was our mantra for three years. And yet. He tried. I tried. Maybe the ride will be smoother in another century. Hope still springs eternal.
Soundtrack Suggestion
This love of mine Had no beginning It has no end I was an oak, Now I’m a willow Now I can bend And tho’ I’ll never In my life see you again I still stay Until it’s time for you to go
