Puppy Love

There is a photograph in our kitchen of my husband and me from about 45 years ago which brings a smile to our faces every time we stop to look at it.  It is small, black and white, and we are facing each other, inches apart, laughing.  We are not just laughing though, we are laughing so hard, it looks like we are about to lose it. Imagine that feeling which starts to overcome you, where you know you are going to wet your pants if there is no relief from the laughter.  It still evokes such tender memories of the love we shared in those early years, even though we have long since forgotten what we were laughing about.

From the start, whether it was when we met or when we went out on our first date, Herm and I felt such an intense emotional connection, akin to the kind of uncontrollable love we feel when we get a new puppy.  Like a golden retriever puppy. It makes us smile and stare adoringly, all the time.  We can’t get enough of the puppy.  We want to hold and cradle it all the time.  We want to play with it even though the puppy’s play include chewing on our hands and arms.  And slobbering on us. Nothing the puppy does bothers us.  That’s what it was like for us, except for the slobbering.

It was such a precious time, made that much more intense by our frequent long separations, me in Montreal, and he in Philadelphia.  Every time we saw each other it was as if years had passed and no time had passed.  When it was time for one of us to leave, it became unbearable.  As we still adore puppies who have grown up, our love deepened and matured also, to the point where we could no longer stand living four hundred miles apart.

In writing my memoir, it has been very important to me to write truthfully about events and my reactions to them.  Our love has been a big part of it.  Describing loving someone is difficult because of the ever changing nature of relationships and love.  However, I still remember how intensely I felt after we met, how love grew more strengthened and morphed over time even as it hit bumps in the road and despite its many crevices, continues to be the rock of my existence.

 

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