Have I mentioned my son Lucas is home, on R & R, from Afghanistan? It’s amazingly awesome… My husband has had the week off and so, working around this never ending back injury, we have tried to make the most of our time.
One afternoon we went bowling. Our local alley is pretty awesome to run great weekly specials and we were lucky enough to find a relatively quiet afternoon to head down and hit some pins. Lucas, Genny and Chw took to the lanes, and I observed (thanks, back injury, AGAIN.)
While observing, a couple bowling a few lanes down caught my eye.
Gary and Vicki.
Gary, a sweet elderly gentleman, slightly hunched over and absolutely adorable. With bright white hair, bright blue eyes and a kind, silly manner. His charming date Vicki wore a read sweater turtle neck with coordinating red pants, her long silken white hair swept up into a thick, luxurious braid.
As their game went on, it became apparent that their body language wasn’t that of a couple who has spent their lives loving each other- but instead it was that of two people getting to know one another.
They were obviously dating.
It was amazing.
They flirted, he joked and she giggled. They would graze hands and then pull away and blush.
Their balls rolled straight, but slow, down the waxy lane. When ever his veered to the gutter, he’d bend and cover his face like a young boy and shake his head.
Every. Single. Time.
Genny would look at me and smile, mouthing “aweeee”, so that only I knew what she was saying.
(That girl of mine loves herself some old people. They are as adorable to her as new, powder scented baby.)
Eventually their two games came to an end. Gary won, but not by much. By the time they untied their rented shoes, and Gary carried them to the counter, our whole family noticed them and the beautiful something there. The hope. The challenge that life isn’t over at forty, or fifty. The idea that even when crowned with white hair, we remain ourselves. And beautiful. And attractive. And someone…
They finished before we did. Their lane taken over by a 5 year old kid who bowled twice what my men were bowling.
More than anyone, they then missed Gary and Vicki.
Moral of this story?
I totally want to be a Vicki when I grow up…
Rainy Day in May... 