They wandered into the Full Moon restaurant with slow steps and fast smiles. Two elderly couples were enjoying a night out, and they could not have looked sweeter. Old love, the â€œweâ€™ve been through the best and worst of times,â€ love is like that; Iâ€™m guessing.
My husband, son, and I sat a table over from them, which only encouraged frequent glances in their direction. Why? Iâ€™m not sure. There was just something about their comfort in being that grabbed and held my attention.
The ladies sported head to toe sensible Minnesota winter garb. One wore a pink wool coat that was pilled from long use and brown polyester slacks. Her hair curled in white ocean-like waves, which lent her slim face an angelic glow. Her eyes, however, glinted with the devil. The other woman was nearly identical except her coat and pants were darker in color, and her hair was less wavy and more organized.
The two men reminded me of the farmers I grew up with. Sturdy gents. The type with spacious waists, thick blue jeans, and sun-wrinkled faces and necks. Obligatory baseball-style caps denoting a seed company hovered over short gray hair. I knew to my core that, if I had plopped at their table uninvited, they would have had me laughing in seconds.
When the waitress came to take their order the woman in the pink coat started by softly saying she would like some of their chicken dumpling soup.
Waitress: â€œA cup or a bowl?â€
â€œA cup. Iâ€™d also likeâ€¦â€
Before she could finish, her (I assume) husband said, â€œWhat she wants is a nice juicy cheeseburger. No lettuce, tomatoes, or pickles. Just a bun, burger, and cheese.â€
Waitress: â€œWhat kind of cheese? Cheddar, Pepper Jack, Colbyâ€¦â€
Husband: â€œWhatever you can grab a knife and cut a slab off of. Sheâ€™s not picky.â€
The lady in pink beamed at him, and he beamed back. I had a hunch theyâ€™ve been at this a while. Did they often finish each otherâ€™s sentences? I wondered. Did they know each other so well that verbal communication was just for other peopleâ€™s benefit?
Â I looked at my husband and slipped my hand over his. Will we know that kind of â€œtwilight loveâ€ as the years collect? The flannel pajamaâ€™s type of love and comfort that comes with accepting each other no matter what? I gave him a little shoulder nudge, and he grinned at me.
Yeah, I suspect weâ€™re good.