I read somewhere that the purpose of life is to love and be loved. Those words have stayed with me, and the older I become, the more I believe them to be true. And if it is true, then one instant, one little step of chance, our first kiss, began all the years and kisses since and the framework of my life.
I am sifting through my remembrance and experience for those tiny moments of revelatory light that expose character, the focal point searching for the virtue and honor that spring from those moments of vulnerability and fear, and the split second, just after, when love overcomes all.
It's my favorite place to park in town, especially in the early mornings before everyone is rushing about. It is the third space from the street, at the far end of the lot, on the right, adjacent to the pepper tree. I've made photos here before in the rain. Good ones that have won awards, so it has been lucky for me. And here you are this morning, dressed in orange to match the safety cones. I love everything about you, particularly your choice of color on this otherwise dreary day. The fact that your hair is in rollers covered loosely by a scarf, and you wear big sunglasses despite the complete absence of sun. I think you are alone, but soon I realize you are outpacing your husband who follows behind. He is bent at the waist and shuffles slowly recognizing he has no hope of ever catching you. Later I understand more as I sit transfixed by the two of you, shielded from your view by my placement in the restaurant. You meticulously order his meal, set the table and care for him in this place of self-service. That is why you hurried, to make it special for him. And on this miserably rainy morning, I think to myself how lovely that all is.