An unthemed blog of thoughts and mutterings. Join me for a few mutterings of your own.
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Friday, June 29, 2012
Keith and Mary at the Ford House, by Harry Teichert
In a romance novel that I was accidentally reading, the hero said to the protagonist, "I want to grow old with you."
Growing old together is not a bed of roses--there are hard times, difficult passages. Sometimes . . . well, sometimes it is not all it's cracked up to be in romance novels.
I'm not sure when we become "old." Is it when we retire, when our hair turns white, when we can no longer do the things we like to do because of various frailties?
We're 66, both of us. We love each other with a great tenderness. Sometimes, we hate each other.
I suffer from insomnia. Last night, I lay awake with my naked husband wrapped around me, his leg thrown over, his hand resting on my arm, his belly rhythmically rising to touch me and move away.
I wanted to touch him, to caress him, I didn't want to wake him.
Someone recently told me, with almost a sense of awe, that 80-year-old men find 80-year-old women attractive. I am here to say that 66- year-old women find 66-year-old men sweet, lovely, sexy and wonderful--at least some of the time! We still happily and gratefully enjoy what Ayla calls "pleasures."