“Stop! Go back!” I reach for the camera and pop the lens cap off.
He brakes immediately and turns around in the next drive. “Should I stop on this side of the road or go past and come back?”
“Just stop, and I’ll jump out.”
I do–and slam the car door.
Not a good idea.
The whole flock of mallards takes off from the drainage ditch, flapping and quacking and squawking.
Except for one pair that allows a couple photos before they, too, lift off.
I’m disappointed as I climb back into the car.
And then I remember.
When he took me to a nearby pond only a couple weeks after we started to date. We snuggled on a wooden bench and watched the ducks.
It was there he first told me that he thought he loved me.
And I told him I didn’t know how I felt.
But he proposed a week later, and I said yes.
I wonder if he would have reconsidered if he could have seen into the future.
Did I scream at him this morning?
No, I think that was yesterday. Today’s been good. So far.
Maybe I’ll never scream at him again.
Because this could be the last time we see ducks together.
The last time we ride in a car together.
Our. Last. Day.
So I must love now, in this moment, before the door slams on this life and one of us takes wing to another.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Live like you were dying, Love because you are. ~attributed to Mark Green
(Assume the Bishop of Aston. I can’t confirm, but I like the quote anyway.)
Also linking with On Your Heart Tuesday.