I am sitting in a coffee shop in Raleigh’s north side. It’s far north, almost it’s own city, almost reaching beyond what the city calls home. In fact, it acts like it’s own city. Though the address is no different than the south side of town, everyone refers to it as if it is special, as if it is set apart, distinctive and different from the other neighbors in its immediate vicinity.
Coffee shops are generally filled with lonely people, people who are alone in body, but connected somehow to a virtual society through email, books, or newspapers. There are exceptions to this rule: the book club, the mobile meet-up, the run-in of old friends. The rarest is the one to my right.
An older gentleman, of an era past sits with a spectacular watch, loafers, and a jacket. In a different season, he might wear a tie, not by obligation or duty, but by a classical choice that is his instinctive nature. His cup is lifted with poise and wit and behind the wrinkles of his worn face, is a smile that has left its mark, imprinted on a clay mold of years and years of good life. His ears are magnificent, and more than capable of supporting his wire-rimmed glasses which sit delicately upon his nose. The lenses dip just below his snow-white eyebrows. His hair, matching in color is parted to the left, and stands out in a room with other men’s wispy, waxed, and messy hair. The band on his left hand shines as brilliantly as it did the day it was purchased, in a small jeweler’s shop downtown, which has certainly closed and been transformed into a starving artist’s gallery of wooden carved, mythical animal figurines.
The lady in the flowing pink dress across from him, his wife, appears at first glance like a flamingo disguised as a butterfly, sitting with one leg upon the other, a feat requiring effort and precision at a frail age. The dress she wears is reminiscent of her youth, flowing, care-free, and perfect for a day on the town. Her wedding band shines just as brightly as his, but more captivating, more dazzling, is the sparkle in her eyes as she gazes on her husband, a man who has devoted his life to her, and cared for her. She adores him. He notices.
He has always noticed. It’s that noticing that has kept his heart full. That’s how she caught him in the first place. She had always been as he had always been. Then one day, when nothing extraordinary took place, something ordinary happened. A girl smiled at him. Because of his ego, the boy mistook the smile for adoration, and noticed. She glanced at him, noticing her, and adored him. She adored his presumptions, his ego, and even adored his flaws. He noticed. She glanced at him, noticing her. And she adored him again. She adored him for his humility, and his pride, for his contradictions, and his convictions. And he noticed. Without warning, they soon accepted each other unconditionally, and they had heard a rumor that people called this love.
To love another and have that love be more than returned, to be returned, matched, and increased – it was a wild thing that spun out of control, out of his reach and when he finally looked around he was seventy years old, married, and in a coffee shop sitting across from the most beautiful creature on earth, his wife, his beloved past, present and future.
It’s obvious they are in love, truer love than they were fifty years ago when they stood across from each other, palms touching, sweaty, nervous as onlookers gazed upon them for the magical union of lips, of lives, dreams and passions. The crowd applauded then. They applauded for this union of souls, for taking a risk, taking a leap out into the world, daring to say, “We love each other! All other lovers of love, follow our lead!” It was brave, courageous, and wildly insane all at once.
Some of those who bore witness to them, who saw their love begin together, were deceived into believing they had none of their own anymore. Years later, they would separate from their best friends. Others remained together under a roof, but their souls had separated. Somehow, by some miracle, this man, this woman survived to have coffee together on the 21st of April, in 2010.
But no one applauds them here. None has applauded their years of struggle, their financial limits, or the raising of their children. None applauds their sweet kiss now, done so naturally, so effortlessly, a common person would say it lacks the vigor of a youthful love. And they would be wrong. It shows the wisdom of love grown, of years and years of getting it right, of waking up each day more devoted than yesterday.
If you were to ask them, “How did you remain? How did you make it when others didn’t? Tell us the secret.” They might look at you puzzled, as if they viewed themselves as having no authority on the subject, as if they were not the experts. They might say, “We are still figuring it out.” But that’s not the truth.
The truth is she adores him. The truth is he notices. They never stopped.
“Love is patient; love is kind.
Love does not envy; is not boastful; is not conceited; does not act improperly; is not selfish; is not provoked; does not keep a record of wrongs; finds no joy in unrighteousness, but rejoices in truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never ends.”
-the apostle Paul
The Beginning of Always 