I thought my life was going well at 65. My husband passed away a long time ago, and my children have already started their own families, so they don’t come to see me very often. I lived by myself in a little house on the edge of town. As the sun set over the vacant street, I would sit by the window and listen to the birds sing. I felt a deep emptiness that I didn’t want to admit: loneliness. My life seemed peaceful, but I felt it.
That was my birthday. Nobody called or texted to say congrats. I made the decision to ride the night bus to the city alone. I didn’t have a strategy, but I wanted to do something new and “daring” before it was too late.
I went into a little tavern. The music was beautiful, and the lights were warm and golden. I went to a quiet location and asked for a glass of red wine. The sweet and bitter taste on my tongue made me feel better because I hadn’t had a drink in a long time.
While I was watching folks walk by, I observed a man approaching toward me. He was in his early 40s, had a little gray in his hair, and his eyes looked calm and deep. He grinned at me from across the table. “Do you want another drink?”
I laughed and informed him he was mistaken in a nice way:
“Don’t call me ‘ma’am’; I’m not used to it.”
We talked as if we had known each other for a long time. He said he was a photographer and had just gotten back from a trip. I told him about my childhood and the excursions I always wanted to go but never did. I don’t know if it was the wine or the way he looked at me, but I was drawn to him.
That night, I went to a motel with him. I hadn’t felt someone’s arms around me in a long time. It was nice to be close to someone. We didn’t say anything in the dark room; we just went with what we felt.
The next morning, the sun came in between the drapes. I got up and turned to say hello, but there was no one in bed. He was no longer there. There was a white envelope on the table. I opened it with shaking hands, and my heart raced.
There was a picture of myself resting peacefully in the box, with golden light streaming on me. Below it were some remarks that wrote, “Thank you for showing me that getting older can be both beautiful and brave.” But I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth right away. You assisted my father a long time ago.
I couldn’t move. I remembered a number of things, like how I had helped a woman raise her son when things were terribly hard for her over twenty years ago. I lost touch with that person, and I never thought the kid from last night was that person.
At the same moment, I was astonished, humiliated, and perplexed. I wanted to blame him, but I had to face the fact that last night wasn’t just a drunken mistake. At that point, I was completely honest with myself, even though the truth stunned me.
I looked at the picture in my hands for a long time. My face didn’t look worried in the picture; it looked peaceful. I knew that certain realities hurt, but they also come with a gift.
When I returned home that night, I put the picture in a peaceful place. No one knows the story behind it, but every time I see it, it reminds me that people can get the best surprises of their lives at any age. Sometimes, those surprises are what make life worth living.