It is Valentines Day tomorrow. So who else to write about this evening besides the love of my life, my beloved, the adorable smart-ass mensch sitting to my right paying bills - Lawrence I. Schwartz.
It seems that a bit of romantic sentiment about my husband started pushing its way to the forefront of my thoughts this past weekend. At shabbat dinner with some friends, I found myself telling a story of a seminal moment in me and Larry's "courtship" that I hadn't reflected on, much less talked about, in a really long time.
The story in a nutshell: Its 2003. The friends who set us up tell me Larry is divorced. I trust said friends. We go out 3 or 4 times. I like Larry. He then tells me that he is separated (about 6 months); the divorce not yet final. I (so very not in the mood to be rebound-girl) tell him: great meeting you; have a nice life. A few days later, 6:30 am, I am running along the Baltimore Harbor. Larry pops out of nowhere, scares the shit out of me, shoves a letter in my hand and runs off.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best.
Inspired me then.
Keeps me going now.
Larry's optimism is well illustrated by his latest "major life decision." Taking a substantial pay cut so he could raise his children and live his life more actively, more outdoors, more Jewishly. Living his life according to his values. How many of us can say that this is really what we do? I am moved; I am motivated; I am so damn proud.
Happy Valentines Day LOML. Thank you for stalking me. And relaxing me enough to be able to just follow my heart. You were right. Its turned out pretty well.