My mom is doing an inventory of her life right now, as she awaits her diagnosis. She told me today how she was glad that she took chances.
One of those chances was on Dad. I like to think Dad took a chance as well.
They were both in their thirties in the late 1960’s. They met at a L.A. coffee shop, and bonded over horse racing results. They married in 1971 and I came along three years later. And the rest is history.
So for their generation, they were definitely older than average when they finally said, “I do.” It’s really just the powers of fate that brought them together at that diner on that day and had their worlds collide into one another.
There was no “love at first sight” or anything like that. But perhaps the romantic side of my mom got caught up in the allure of the mysterious, handsome dark-haired man from Ireland.
I’m glad Mom took that risk. Otherwise, I might not be here.
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