A Love Story of Sorts

These two houses are across the street from each other

For years they've been watching each other from across a back country road. When they were young she wondered if he'd come a courting; he was unsure of himself and feared rejection.

"There's always tomorrow," he'd say to himself. Besides both of them had families to raise.

Now, in their old age, their families are gone and the fields lay fallow, but they still sit and gaze lovingly at each other, watching the deer cross the empty fields, and listening to the melodies of birdsong. He's still the strong silent type, and while she's sagging a little ("Don't worry my dear, we all start to sag as we get older.") he still thinks she's beautiful, and wears that first blush of spring like she did when she was young.

They'll stay as they are and have been for years, quietly loving each other in silence. Until a developer comes with bulldozers to build a townhouse community replete with a shopping center, gas station, and corner drug emporium.

Shy or simply coy? She hid behind that blush of color like a bailaora behind a fan.

He stood as tall and bold, and strong and silent, as Gary Cooper in “High Noon.”