A 100 hundred years ago, or so it seems, I wrote this poem to the "love of my life" for our first valentine's day:

Though it may be new to us, it feels like it has always been thus
You and me, quietly making our way together
Sure-footed and trustingly we move ahead each day
Holding hands, gently touching
Needing to be near
Needing to share
Wanting to know
Daring to reveal
Choosing not to conceal

Though it may be new to us, it feels like it has always been thus
You and me, joyfully drawing strength from each other
Cooing and cuddling
Looking and laughing
We move ahead each day
The journey a gleeful adventure
The path, our unknown destiny.

Little did I know that two years later on Valentine's Day he would wed another. So much for destiny!

I found this in a box of cards and letters stowed away and neglected for over 20 years. It sure brought back memories - some bittersweet. In that box of memories I also found letters from my deceased parents, love letters from my ex-husband, letters to my parents they saved when I was traveling abroad in my early twenties, sketches I made on that trip, and many other little mementos. When was the last time you looked through your memory box?

Written by Barbara Jokel

That Was Then Antiques on Ruby Lane