In Honor Of The 50^th (Plus) Anniversaries Of The Class of 1964 High School Sweethearts-“Written In The Stars”

  

…who knows when or where it started. Maybe it was that first fresh-eyed glance in some dreary classroom, or walking down the street, or at old Wollaston Beach, or at some other activity but it happened. It happened with big bang hearts or with quietly growing on each other but it happened. And he, formerly full of boasts and bravados in that mandatory Monday morning before school boys’ “lav” talkfest about who did or did not do what with whom over the weekend fell silent, would not speak her name in such bluster. (And she, she in that mandatory Monday morning before school girls’ “lav” talkfest about who did or did not do what with whom just smiled, a private smile, she had her man.)

They laughed, laughed one night down at Wollaston Beach watching the “submarine races,” (we are all adults here we need no explanations although we are all ears if the honorees wish to discuss such matters now. Just get the grandkids out of the room), saying they would stay together forever. Forever being, as such things went, maybe the next year, or until the next best thing came along.              

As it turned out the next best was sitting right next to them, and so they, maybe a little fearful, maybe a little worried about whether they would last or not tied the knot (although truth to tell that knot was already tied long before). He went off to war or work and she waited and worried, worried about how they would provide for the coming children. And worry or not the children came and made their time a little easier (mostly). But there were bumps in the road, he, getting a little thicker around the waist, looked off in the distance and she, well, she went on an exercise regime as they both wondered separately in the night what had happened (both tossing in the night about leaving, about what they would do without the other, about where would they go and how when they were young they had loved each other so). That passed. Later he more interested in Sunday afternoon Patriot’s point spreads and she in shopping, shopping until she dropped, for the newest grandchild had that recurring dream. But that too passed.         

So they, maybe mocked in a modern world where everyone is supposed to change spouses, partners, lovers with the changing seasons, spent their time together. Out somewhere on a cold December night, a man standing in a lonely dark room, or with a stranger, a man who changed flames with the seasons, stood in awe, I, we, do you  hear, stand in awe of such steadfastness. And love, but you knew that.