Dreams DO Come True!

My babes are with me for the weekend while their parents relax with friends in the mountains of Western Pennsylvania. This morning I'm dawdling in bed, the Jazzman having left for work at 6:00, the birds chirping outside my window, the air cool with the promise of fall. I'm waiting for the babes to wake up, knowing the day to come will be a whirlwind of activity for this ol' grandma.

Last night I posted on Facebook a video of the babes telling their parents good-night. The parents are in a place with limited cell signals and limited wi-fi. But my experience is that Facebook is easy to hit, even when my e-mail is hard to hit. So I thought they might be able to see this video. As I posted it, I set the security settings so only the parents could see it.

This morning I googled "g'night to tyler and jaci" after logging out of Facebook, to check my security settings and ensure only they could see the video. The first thing that came up was a link to my blog from February 2008. I clicked it and sat reading what I went through in making this move. Fascinating! How fascinating to remember the whirlwind of social activity and the packing activities and the details of driving cross-country that I had forgotten. I clicked on a few inks within those posts and read other posts, until I ended up here.

Oh my gosh.

Two days ago the babes were over here sewing with me. We were talking about how to turn negatives into positives—how to look at the happy side of things rather than the sad side.

Why? The song "For Good" from Wicked came on the playlist, and Ridley burst into tears. I spent a Very Long Time talking her through being happy for having known friends who are gone, rather than being so unbearably sad that they're gone. We talked about my mother being near the end of her life, and how I'm lucky to have been adopted by someone who could pay for my piano lessons and have the time to take me to all those lessons. We talked about my former step-daughter who, when she arrived for a week's visit with her father, was instantly in tears because in seven days she'd have to return to her home across the ocean, rather than being happy and grateful for a week's visit with her father. We talked about J.R.'s death and how I feel so lucky to have had that almost-2.5 year marriage, even though he died.

Boston was saying how he wished he had known J.R., and I assured him that they would have liked each other very much. I told him how much fun J.R. was, and how everyone who knew him loved him. Boston asked if he was fun like the Jazzman. I said yes, that the Jazzman and J.R. were very much alike in that way.

Boston said, "I'm so glad you met [the Jazzman]." "I am, too," I told him. "I am, too!"

This morning, then, as I read this post, I was absolutely astonished to read my thoughts from March of 2008, and to realize that they came true just under two years later.

I truly hate dating at 57. I want a magic wand that can, poof!, bring the man who will understand my idiosyncrasies and pat me on the head when the Little Adoptee rears her ugly head; who can find my physical beauty despite my post-menopausal tummy; who will tolerate and appreciate and respect my devotion to my grandchildren; who will be willing to go to classical concerts with me, without complaining that he doesn't understand what the singers are singing. He can cook? He golfs? He has his own interests and doesn't want to be joined at the hip? Hallelujah! All the better. In my perfect world, the magic wand would deliver this man into my life and we'd both know instantly and could settle into a nurturing, supportive relationship without all the insecurities of teenage dating all over again.

If you're one of the Jazzman's friends reading this, or if you know me well enough to have heard me describe our life together, you'll know this describes him—and our relationship—in minute detail. After our second date, he told his mother and brother that he had met someone. We settled, with uncharacteristic mid-life ease, into a nurturing, supportive, and downright fun relationship.

I told Tyler after our first date, "I have just come home from the most comfortable first date of my life." I wake each morning glad to be alive. I watch him sleeping at night and think how much I love this man. He reaches for my hand as we walk through city parks or ballparks or restaurants, and I wonder how I came to be so lucky.

I am one lucky girl old broad!

I guess dreams actually can come true!