A Snapshot of our Love

Snapshots of our Love

They were sitting contentedly, watching the last of the day disappear; dusk seemed to be coming earlier these days, so winter must be on its way. They did not mind the cooler months, more comfortable to sit outside on their patio, enjoying their garden. 

They bought their “retirement” house about ten years ago. This was to be the last move, as they lived a gypsy lifestyle for many years. This time, they were putting down roots, planting trees, planning never to leave. The little bushes planted ten years ago were now very much larger shrubs, the mulberry tree ten foot tall. The trees which should not have grown so high were now joining the mulberry in glorious union.  The wooden flower boxes were a mass of colour, and his vegetable patch showed signs of overtaking the yard. Their fiftieth wedding anniversary, they could not believe it, was it really fifty years since they stood in the church and promised to ‘love and cherish, for as long as we both shall live’.   They were only teenagers when they first met, she fifteen, and he seventeen. 

At fifteen, and considered too young to go to dances, she had been allowed to attend the local YCW meetings at the church hall. 

As usual at these gatherings, the girls stood in one corner, with the boys in another. She was only half listening to the other girls chatting about their clothes and shoes, and her mind started wandering. She glanced over to the other side of the room and a tall, lanky red-haired chap with googly glasses caught her eye. He too had noticed the young chick standing over the other side of the room, with a mini skirt showing off her shapely legs. There is not a lot they remember of those times in the old church hall, but they both remember that night, as it was to set the scene for their future together.   She reminisces about those days, still a shy teenager, not sure what or how this boyfriend/girlfriend thing was supposed to work, but knew when the time came; it would all seem to fall into place.

He had wandered into the house, looking for the big chestnut box, her ‘Glory Box’, which held all their memories.  He carried it to the patio, and as they opened it, the nostalgic scent of times gone by came rushing out.  Inside the box were scattered pieces of their life. The photos of their courtship and marriage; children and grandchildren all resided in that box, meticulously kept in pristine condition, as some were as old as they were. Letters they had written to each other over the years were neatly wrapped in soft ribbon.

There were photos of her grandparents, old and grainy now. They had immigrated to Australia in the eighteen eighties, forging a life for themselves in this uncharted country, building a beautiful Queenslander to house their growing family.  Her father inherited that iconic home and she has fond memories of growing up on the dairy farm, living a carefree childhood. 

She spied the pack of photos labelled ‘Engagement’. By this time he had dozed off to sleep so rather than wake him with her chatter, she opened the envelope, and there they were, grinning at each other, stupendously in love. She lies back into her armchair, and starts remembering the night they met. A smile crosses her face, she is remembering the local dance, him sauntering over to ask her to dance, and she coyly accepting. 

He stirs a little, and she asks if he remembers that night too.

“Ah, yes, of course I do”, he said very sincerely. “You had on that yellow dress, and your hair all teased up”. He mimics it by running his hands through his sparse hair, and they both give a chuckle.

“I had spent the afternoon, curling my hair and spraying it so it would stay just the way I wanted, choosing the perfect dress to wear, and taking off to the dance with great expectations of finding the man of my dreams.”

“And did you find him, my love? ” he asks questionably, knowing the answer.

“Yes”, she said, “I do believe I did”, and she gave him a wink.  “I believed in karma, what will be, will be. If my intended was at that dance that night, I would meet him, and, ride off into the sunset with him, just like in the movies.  So, yes, you were the one I had been waiting for all of my life. That one dance lasted our entire lives, as it was pretty obvious at that moment that we were meant to be together. Don’t ask why this happens like it does, but from that moment on, we were a twosome”.  She paused to catch her breath.

He thought for a bit, and said, “People talk about falling in love, with lots of stars spinning around them, so they are positive they are ‘in love’. For us, it was not like that; we just clicked from the start, knew where we wanted to be back then and in fifty or sixty years’ time, and had no hesitation in going forward from that moment”.

She nodded in agreement, and he continued, “Do you remember the day we chose our wedding and engagement rings. That chap in the jewellers shop took us for a sorry looking couple, not much money. I had on that old coat with the oil stains on it, you were a bit annoyed I was wearing it, but it was winter, and the coat was warm. He started showing us the cheap rings, but I soon put him straight”. 

She chuckled and said, “Yes, the jeweller was a bit miffed that he had made a mistake. He recovered fairly quickly, and soon more trays appeared, the rings chosen, and we had started the process of getting married!!”

They were now in full swing of recalling the way they had started this life of fifty years.

“Do you remember the night you asked my dad for my hand in marriage? I told mum and dad you were going to have ‘the chat’ with dad, but it did not turn out as we had expected, did it?”

“No, not quite”, he mused. “Here is the photo of that night, I was in that old yellow jacket again, I loved that coat.  I was sent to the lounge room to ‘have the chat’ with your dad, and you and your mum were in the kitchen, trying to listen”.

“And we could not really hear much either”, she added.

“So, I asked the question, and your dad said yes, so all good, I thought. Then he asked when we were going to get married, I answered early next year. Well, he bellowed, ‘a bit soon, don’t you think’!!!!!  I nearly collapsed, and you girls were in the kitchen, laughing. Guess your dad had to have the last word, eh.”

Still laughing, she said, “It just goes to show you cannot be faint-hearted when asking for a daughter’s hand in marriage!!”   

The photos show the engagement party with family and friends in the Old Queenslander.  He went on, “I remember my best man was there, and he brought his guitar to entertain us. Your mum and dad looked a little surprised and shocked when he played the song ‘Too young to be married’, we had to reassure them well and truly that it was not that sort of wedding!!”

They both sat happily together for a while, remembering their wedding. She was to wear her mother’s wedding dress, and such an honour it was to walk down the aisle on the arm of her father in the gown her mother had worn as she had walked down that same aisle.   

On their wedding day, she had floated down the aisle, to the oohs and aahs of family and friends. Calmness and serenity shown on her face, she ready to join the love of her life, who had eyes only for her. They stood facing each other, their eyes interlocked, in the coolness of the church. They were soon to say the words which were to resound in their memories for nearly fifty years, their promises to each other.

“Do you remember our wedding day?” She asked.

“Of course,” he replied, “how could I forget?”

The photos showed them standing together at the altar.  “I recall standing there, facing you, the priest motioning for me to say my vows. I remember them as if it was yesterday. The words seemed to flow out of my mouth”. She closed her eyes, and resaid the words from fifty years ago.

 “I, Maria, take you Robert to be my lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish for as long as we both shall live”.

She smiled, as if she was really standing in that church, saying those words. “I remember breathing a sigh of relief when I had finished. Then it was your turn. The priest touched your arm, urging you to say your vows.  You just looked at him, a little dazed, as if in a trance. Do you remember?”

“Yes” he said, “The priest was wondering why I was not saying anything.  I guess he was a little worried that I was going to bolt down the aisle and out of the church”. They both laughed, knowing how bewildered that priest must have felt at that time.

He continued, “It was not that I did not want to say them, however, Johnny, my best man, had taken me to the local pub for a couple of beers, just to strengthen my courage to cope with the day ahead. The barman saw I was the groom, and insisted in shouting me a good stiff whisky too. So, not having eaten all day, the couple of drinks did make my head feel a little fuzzy. A jolt from the priest bought me back to earth, and with that my head cleared, and I was saying those words we had practiced so many times.

 I, Robert, take you Maria to be my lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish for as long as we both shall live”.

She laughed. “I remember the priest heaved a sigh of relief, as did our parents, and he then said the final words of the wedding.  I now pronounce you man and wife”.

He chuckled, “I just remember that first kiss as man and wife. It was the sweetest kiss of my life!!”

She smiled and remembered too. Yes, that is love.

There were photos of their honeymoon at the seaside, clearly showing two people in love, crafting hearts out of shells on the beach, and kissing under the moonlight. 

Baby photos were there too, showing them as new parents with the birth of their first child, a little girl, Michelle. 

“Here is one of you playing in the yard with Michelle and our first pup. My goodness, we did look so young, and you still had that crop of red hair and googly glasses”.

He smiled at the memories, yes; he was so young, but still madly in love with his wife who was then pregnant with their second child, a son, Anthony.

She sighed and remarked, “We survived all those years, you travelled a lot with work, and I was the ‘stay at home mum’, who as they say, ‘kept the home fires burning’. I loved those days, and would not change them for anything”. 

Other photos appeared, children playing at the beach, family dinners and Christmas time at the Old Queenslander.  

She found the photos of the business they bought, a toy shop, everyone loves toys, they thought, what could go wrong. 

“We did have a few ‘hic-ups’ along the way. Buying that business in the country seemed a good idea at the time, and we had such fun, loved being around our family, the children making life-long friends during those carefree days,” she said, scanning the photos of them both standing proudly out the front of their shop.

“Yes”, he said, “Until the shopping centres opened up in the neighbouring towns, enticing the country folk to shop with them.  They were worrying days, but we just kept going. You have to have a strong marriage to go through what we went through, a failing business, having to sell everything we owned to get ourselves out of trouble. These were heartbreaking times, but never once did we ever think of giving up. We always had each other, so we just kept going”.

“Indeed”, she added, “I guess that is what those vows we said on our wedding day meant, ‘for better, for worse, for richer or poorer’, we went through that painful time in a few short months”.

Her hands delved deeper into the old chestnut box, and she felt their love letters tied in blue ribbon. He did not know she had kept them all these years, but in those first few months of courtship, they wrote to each other daily, pouring out their love in words which would immortalised forever in the letters they had written to each other.   It seemed hard to express how they felt about each other; their love sent warm feelings through their bodies. They dreamt of being together forever.   Apart they were half a person, together making them whole. Their letters always ended with ‘I love you and always will’.  

She comes upon another letter; this one she sent him when he was away from home trying to find work, after their business folded.  Every weekend she would pack her bag, and spend the weekend with him.   A tear rolls down her face, as she starts reading the words on the page. In the letter she writes about the emotional parting they had the last time she left to come home, but urging him to stay focused and strong, he was and still is such a gentle man, and their parting that weekend upset them both. It is said that happiness does not come from money and fame, but by just being happy with our lot. Their lot, at that moment, was for him to be away from home, and she coping on her own. She tells him of her confidence in him and she is his biggest fan. She finishes the letter with the words ‘I love you’. Even in adversity, their love shone through. She folds the letters and puts them away in the old chestnut box, and closes the lid.

She looks over at her husband of fifty years, and sees him dozing again, his hands starting to tremble. She knows the excitement of the anniversary party had taken its toll. 

About ten years ago, health problems seemed to afflict him, he had been plagued by constant vertigo attacks. Life was a constant battle and she had prayed that one day his whirling life would stop, and their life would be “normal” again. No amount of prayers could change the course he was on and his “spinning in circles” life continued, a blight on their perfect life.  It seems this was the onset of Parkinson Disease. 

He does his best to still his tremors just for a short while, a little embarrassed for others to see his trembling body. Some of his friends on their “parky journey” did not show any signs of this ‘shaky disease’. She knew first hand that the tremors do not need to be shown outside the body, but inside they were there, she could sometimes feel them when touching his arm, like an electric shock coursing through his body. As time went on, this “parky journey” did not seem so much of an enjoyable trip to be on after all. 

When they stood in that church many years ago, reciting those marriage vows they truly believed in, ‘in sickness and in health’ were not just words, they were the promises they would honour forever. 

It has not been an easy few years for her; she has become his carer. His back is like the “Hunchback of Notre Dame”. He finds it too painful to stand up straight; his excuse is that he needs to see the ground to walk. 

She can understand this, as to add to his woes, he is almost blind, courtesy of an accident when he was ten years old. So yes, maybe he is bent over trying to see the ground.   His life has taken a twist and turn, and he is now permanently living life in this hunched over position. It does not seem to worry him, as he says, that is life. 

They both realised very early in their marriage, that it is hard work, and they have felt more pain than they ever knew was possible, and more deep joy that they ever realised existed. 

During their anniversary lunch, they were asked how they managed to stay together for fifty years. She replied, “The only answer is love, for us love is falling asleep next to one another, making dinner together, spending holidays with our family. This experience is so incredible, words fail us when we try and explain it. That is just the way it is with love, it is meant to be felt, not described. Everyone describes love in different ways, and even though love can look different from one person to the next, we all know it when we see it. For us, we saw it in each other fifty years ago, and so here we are today, still so very much in love.