We all have stories to tell and today is the day to do it. Click on the image for more information about celebrating it.

I’m sharing a very old story with you today. It’s never been published and is one I wrote over thirty years ago.

In my mind’s eye, I imagine it to be my husband and me when we were old. Of course, back then, we can never imagine ourselves getting to that age, but well here we are. Not quite the age of Julia and Ivan in this story, but my husband will hit it in a couple of years. I hope you enjoy it.


 Sitting in the conservatory with a magazine on my lap I gazed at my husband who was engrossed in a newspaper.  

“What?”  he asked, looking up. 

“Nothing, I’m just, well, looking at you.”  

He didn’t reply and went back to his newspaper. 

My eyes moved over to the window, and I enjoyed the view of the garden. A large, old apple tree stood on the right-hand side. The fruit already ripening. Further along, the rockery had an assortment of colourful shrubs nestled between. Round the sides of the lawn, a hydrangea sat with a host of beautiful purple flowers. From the open window, I could smell the sweet scents of the garden and hear the flow of the water feature.

A small sigh of contentment escaped my lips and Ivan looked up again. He followed my gaze and the corner of his mouth turned up.

Two years ago, he retired, and we moved to this beautiful house. We could now work full time on our garden, a passion we had both had for many years. The fruits of our labours lay in front of us. 

We enjoyed the peace with no music, as we had our own. Birds sang and chirped from the open window and inside the rustle of Ivan’s newspaper. Faintly, in the background, the washing machine spun.

We’d had a lifetime of music, now nature was our soundtrack.

I continued reading the two-page spread about Valentine’s Day. “It’s so commercialised now,” I commented. 

Ivan looked up, “What is?”  

“Valentine’s Day.” 

He frowned for a moment before looking at the magazine I held. 

“Nothing’s private anymore, no secret thoughts or romantic interludes. It’s one big commercial sell.”  

“Hmm. Although I’m glad it’s not February.”   

I snapped out of my reverie, “What?” 

“You’re reading an old magazine.” 

“Oh, yes.” I chuckled and as my eyes rested on the garden again, it pleased me to be in the height of summer. 

My mind wandered back to Valentine’s Day when young girls swooned over good-looking men. I glanced at my once tall, dark, and handsome man. We met on a blind date and my heart went into overdrive.  

That kind of magic has gone now, but I remembered how hard my heart pounded. He had magnetising blue eyes and the most charming of smiles. I fell instantly in love.  

I’d felt nothing like that before – heart fluttering, my stomach in knots, and all thoughts centred on that one person. When you can’t eat or sleep, and live for being together. Now we were.

I remembered the way his lips had locked with mine; ah, be still my beating heart! I chuckled aloud again.

”Now what?” Ivan asked, putting down his newspaper once more.

“I was just thinking about our Valentine’s blind date.”  

My husband smiled. His rheumy eyes crinkled at the sides. “You were a fine woman then, Julia, just as you are now.”  

“And you’re just as romantic.” 

Anyone looking in at us would see an old couple grinning inanely at each other. They wouldn’t know the lifetime of music, the memories, and love we’d shared. 

“I’d much rather be our age enjoying all of this,” Ivan said as he gazed out of the window. “Much better than that fumbling fool I was back then.”

“It was exciting.” I obviously remembered it differently from him.

“Yeah, I suppose. But I would much rather be the couple of seventy-year-olds we are now. We have a lot to be thankful for, Julia.” 

I nodded and turned the page. As good as life was, this was just perfect. 

As romance is in the air, here are a few great books I’ve read.