Celebration in the Nursing Home

Five years ago today, neither Romeo nor I knew where we would be today. Five years ago today, our history began. Five years ago today, Romeo and I met.

Today I went to his nursing home and brought him a special treat to celebrate: cheesecake. Good cheesecake. He gobbled it up happily and said, "It doesn't seem like it was five years ago, does it?"

Indeed it does not. There was no dementia then. Or shall I say it hadn't shown any noticeable signs.

Officially, we met online, then spoke on the phone, then made a date to meet in person for tea. Every year, until now, we celebrated our actual physical meeting by going to that same tea shop and enjoying green tea (for Romeo) and rooibus chai with soy milk (for me), toasting our good fortune, and honoring that first meeting.

If I could turn back the clock and back myself out of the situation, as if it had never happened, as if our meeting had never taken place, would I? Would Romeo? The answer for both of us is that being together has been the richest, lushest, most loving times of our lives, with the most spiritual growth each has ever experienced. Give up all of that? Nope, never.