I LOVE LOVE: TWO STRANGERS AT THE HARLEQUIN.

I was sitting on a bench outside the Harlequin at Watford trying to recover from my bout of marathon shopping when the couple caught my eye. Fascinated I watched, lowering the large cup of coke in my hands.

A few meters away from me, an old woman in a pretty purple coat was taking one tentative step after the other with the aid of a metal walker. She must have been over 80 years old. She was chatting animatedly with a man by her side. Despite the slight hunch at his back, he was tall, over 6feet. He must have been huge when he was a lot younger, I thought. He walked patiently by her side holding her purse and a shopping bag.

At first, I thought they were mother and elderly son. I remember thinking it was so sweet of a son to take his mother out for a bit of air and Saturday shopping. But as they paused infront of a shop a little distance from me, I saw I was wrong. The tall man's face was just as lined and weathered as the lady's, his hair more of a platinum gray than blonde. He would be the same age as the lady, maybe a little older. He was her husband! And they were adorable together.

Now their heads were bent together infront of the window as they admired a pretty piece of trinket. And then while the little lady continued to chatter excitedly, her veined fingers tracing the bauble through the glass, her husband turned his eyes away from the bauble and watched her. His eyes held such tenderness, his mouth curved in an indulgent smile. 

My hardened, cynical heart swelled and melted over.

His eyes traced her wispy gray hair moving slightly in the frigid English breeze, then caressed her animated face. I wondered what he was thinking as his gaze traced the features of a woman he could have been with for at least 60 years. What did he see that made his gaze so tender? What memory curved his mouth at his wife's eyes flashing excitedly up at him? It was so moving. So heart-wrenching to see... After decades of loving, raising children, facing challenges, sickness, health, growing old and wrinkled together, the man was still in-love with his wife and she clearly adored him right back.

By this time I was enthralled! I watched the pair unashamedly, my coke forgotten on the bench beside me, my shopping bags at my feet. The wife must have made some request  because her husband nodded and she flashed him a smile as he acceded. With a hand still holding the walker, she raised the free one to his weathered cheek but the tall man was already ducking his long frame so that she could reach him. As she murmured softly to him, a large hand came up to cover hers for a brief caress, then he took her hand to his mouth and dropped a kiss in her open palm. Almost immediately, he leaned in for a kiss and his love's head was upturned to meet it. It was brief but passionate. It's one of the most touching things I've ever witnessed.

Growing up, I never saw my parents kiss. Truth be told, I never witnessed any display of affection. It was so sterile that I never even saw a hug! And here were these two strangers, old and wizened, who could still express their love with a touch... a kiss, after no less than half a century together. A little band wrapped itself around my heart and tightened. It hurt!  Tears sprang to my eyes unsolicited. They fell unchecked. A painful knot formed in my throat and I kept trying to swallow it, but it wouldn't budge. It felt like two strong fingers had wedged themselves on my trachea.

The man by this time had the door to the little shop open for his wife who manoeuvred her walker nimbly through the doorway. As she came up to him, she smiled her thanks. He smiled back. The door to the little shop swung shut with a jingle of bells and the couple were lost from my view. I sat there feeling oddly bereft. The tears still fell, but I'd become aware of them and brushed them away with my fingers. I'd witnessed something rare and profound... something to aspire to... LOVE.

It's been several weeks since I saw the couple in England. I think about them often. And when I do I smile. Before y'all tease and call me a hopeless romantic, may I remind you that I've suffered from severe gamophobia since my early twenties. But those two strangers...

In retrospect, I think that that unbearable pain around my chest that cold afternoon was my cast iron heart dissolving into a pile of flowers, butterflies and kisses because I so want what those two have... I want to still look at my husband with so much passion when I'm 80! I want to kiss him shamelessly when I'm old and wrinkled and not care who looks! I want us to hold hands and go for long strolls even after decades together! I want to adore my husband so much that it's obvious that after Jehovah, he's right up that pedestal. 

I honestly want all of that and I'm so ready...

Love & Blessings,

          xxx

       Isi-Aki.

Thank GOD that this writer's block has decided to lose it's hold on me.