Finding Romance at the Mall

Late yesterday afternoon I made my way out, to the mall. I was not original in my plan. You would have thought it was Black Friday. Or two days before Christmas.

It was Valentine's Day Eve. It was also post-blizzard. The lines at the registers were epic. I persevered. I have been wearing the same things (in fabulously creative mixes and matches, but nonetheless, the very same things) for quite the long time now, and besides, I had a gift or two to buy. I'm not big on shopping, and I was never very good at standing in line, but yesterday I had no choice.

So I paid attention. I watched men buying their gifts for their women. I watched mothers and daughters. I watched friends out on a spree.

But it was this one couple that made me stop. Middle aged, for sure, both tall and perhaps not so recently at any gym. She was trying clothes on. He was gushing his praise, suggesting a jacket for the skirt, a belt for the dress, a pair of earrings. There was so much love and, it seemed, genuine adoration in the air that soon I was swept up in the happiness of it, and soon I was complimenting their taste (which was exquisite) and soon they were suggesting a dress for me, predicting a best size.

Wherever I went, then, in the mall, they were there—their arms thrown around each other, their bags dangling from their shoulders. "Hey," they would say, and update me on their travels, and I would update them on mine. And always and forever he couldn't take his eyes off of her. And she could not stop being grateful.

I love that kind of love.

Happy Valentine's Day to all of you, my blogging friends.