Originally uploaded by Maybell21
Last Thursday, I got to talking to an Australian man (let's call him Tim) in the waiting room at the eye doctor's. I'm acquainted with his wife; we attend the same networking meeting at the Huntington Street Cafe.
I asked him how they met. He told me he'd been traveling around the world and had taken a job at a YMCA in New Canaan, Connecticut, where his wife (let's call her Susie) was also employed. She was much younger than he, but they became friends. Eventually, he got to know her parents and siblings. He thought of them as his American family, and of Susie as a little sister.
He went back to Australia.
For the next five years, he and Susie wrote to each other. "A handwritten letter is something you can hold in your hand. It means that someone actually cared enough to sit down and write to you," he said. "Over time, our relationship changed. I became attracted to Susie. She was the most genuine person I'd ever met."
The guy fell in love with his wife not because she was beautiful, big-breasted, rich, or the owner of a classic Corvette. He fell in love with her because she was genuine.
"By 1996, she wasn't too young for me anymore. She visited my family and me in Australia, and we got married there."
The third drawer in the dresser of the bedroom they now share contains every letter they sent one another. He plans to pass them onto their son some day.
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