Marriage

No, that's not it at all. But today I was walking through the Luxembourg gardens yet again. It's been just lovely here over the last few days - cool enough to need a coat but warm enough to sit comfortably on a terrace or in the gardens provided you find a spot in the sun. Naturally, my "commute" through the gardens has changed a bit because of this - my usually solitary walks have become rather crowded. This does not make them any less pleasant, as I enjoy seeing people happy, and they usually are in the gardens.

Today I am passing through and I see an older couple sitting on a park bench. They're a bit off of the main paths - away from the fountains, the tennis courts, the playgrounds, or the petanque land. Her: slender, rather stylish, late 60's, early 70's, hair up in a loose, light brown bun. Him: mild belly, mid-70's, a bit frumpy in a comfortable grandfatherly way, full head of very white hair. Them: sitting as close as possible to one another on the far left side of the bench, each reading a different book - him at a few pages to the end and her just within the first chapter, her left arm crossing his lap, her left hand falling on his left knee.

And I think to myself, "How beautiful is that? I wonder how many times they have come here and sat like this. Do they do this every year when it turns nice? Have they been together for years and years? Or did they just meet one another in the last ten or so, and are accompanying one another in old age?"

I keep on walking through the rest of the gardens. A little kid runs into me because she is suddenly in a hurry to go somewhere and hasn't looked for possible obstacles along the path. I notice a really attractive haircut on one of the young mothers. The usual men are crowding around the petanque "field" as they expertly toss their heavy, metal balls despite their slow, arthritic movements.

And all the while, I can't stop thinking of that couple. Dreaming of how lovely it must be to grow old with someone.

Within fifteen minutes, I'm home. Mom's voice comes echoing through one of those corridors of thoughts, telling me it was all just a leap of faith. Her marriage was just a leap of faith just happened to work out. A leap of faith that can change forever. A huge risk.

And suddenly, all I could think was, "Anybody that gets married must be fucking crazy. Leap of faith my ass."

So although seeing an older lady alone on a bench reading provides a bit less food for thought than seeing an adorable older couple, I'll be sure to wear a really eccentric hat or something to make up for it.