Today, my husband and I were on a tour with honeymooners and I felt like such a know-it-all. He (didn’t get his name) and Tess were basking in their love for one another. He recounted their fairytale wedding with horse drawn carriage, Excaliber car and all the trimmings. He had just purchased a video of the excursion and pictures taken by the tour guide for his “memory box”. I almost told him that forty years from now (assuming they are still married), he won’t remember where the box is or his kids will find it and throw most of their memories away while carting them off to the nursing home. But, I stopped my curmudgeonly self.
I looked at his fresh, unlined face and vaguely remembered when my life was ahead of me. I took a step back and let him tell his story. He couldn’t stop talking about Tess and the next stop on their honeymoon at the Maldives. While listening to his story, I was envisioning their future children and home. I saw the ups and downs of their lives and their children’s lives. I was again reminded of my father’s favorite saying “sweet mystery of life”, which I didn’t understand until much later.
My father knew that life is a mystery that slowly unfolds word-by-word and page-by-page until the story is complete. There are fewer pages to be written in my book, but that young couple’s story is fresh, new, exciting and the ink is still wet.
So I genuinely listened to his story with my mind and my heart. I could see their story being written and I was glad to be a part of it… the black couple they met in Dubai.
Til next time.