Updated my relationship status from “Widowed” for the first time in five years, and dizzy Millennial gesture though it may be, it feels right as rain.
Feels like a public announcement of a private realization that’s been building for more than a few months.
Mr. Present is my age and got divorced around the same time I got widowed. Like me, he had a messy ensuing few years, but eventually found his way toward a 2.0 version of himself.
We kept it light in winter and spring, but somewhere around Memorial Day, we felt comfortable regularly sending good-morning-gorgeous and my-plane-landed-safely texts. A toothbrush for me appeared at his; one for him at mine.
The pace has felt neither forced nor rushed, and only recently have we started intro-ing one other to our social circles. We encountered each other on Laurie’s 21st birthday in NYC, so he’s already met the daughter whose presence has transformed me in a thousand unlikely ways. Because he has three daughters of his own in California, he respects and appreciates the place she holds in my life.
No race to plot out where we’re headed: just the mutual joy of finding ourselves with matching luggage on a journey that neither of us planned.