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Dribbling love in a kart of hope

This morning, I was hanging out the washing, half asleep as usual. Normally uneventful - even for me. Through the wooden paling fence I heard swishing through long grass and saw smooth animal markings coming towards me. Startled, I wondered if I'd woken up in Kenya. Through the pailing fence, poked a old red veined nose. One bloodshot eye focused on me. "Red, it's me - your neighbour." It was the widow K in her tiger-skin bathrobe. She really needs to mow that lawn.
'Red, I have a gentleman staying" (...and I should know this, why??)  I smiled and said "Honey, that's nice."
"Nooo, I mean he is STAYING" (... errr ok)  I still had a basket of wet towels and D&Ms at a fence always made me uncomfortable.

"I met a man and he's perfect not like the losers in the past ..." I lowered the towel I'd almost pinned and listened. I was pleased for her. "That's so great" She had driven all the neighbours mad in various degrees. Her dogs ran free, she had screaming matches with a family that were culturally different (no real reason but she can sure pick a fight) and she is always stalking someone over a perceived wrong like her her bin being moved or a light bulb missing. I should mention she is 78 and uses a mobile scooter for travel around town. She was raised on the land. Her first husband drown and the second man went after her money. She had, as of last week, her seventh heart attack. I always felt she was on borrowed time. 

"He's older than me: 84."  ".. but age is just a number", she added re-assuringly. " We are both in double numbers, triple is when you get to 100." I followed the logic. "He stays at the local rest home and he is miserable. I've asked him to move in." "That's wonderful, how long have you known each other?" "3 days .. It was love at first sight" she said as she wiped her drippy nose on her sun-faded tiger-skin sleeve. Love doesn't wear bi-focals.

"I knew it was right as soon as I met him" She gave me a girly grin and flashed the tops of her dentures, 'He's hot and has his own hair."  When she started to bounced saying she never thought love would happen again to her, I found myself a bit jealous. I remember the feeling, the giggly madness. I wanted to feel that again. I wanted to feel like laughing, dancing, and burying my head into a wet towel. I hate the old sensible feather duster I've become ... and I would have to re-wash the towel. 

"I feel like a teenager again". I knew what she meant. For a few minutes I saw a 17 year old full of hopes and dreams. "In a few years, we are going to sell the house and move down the coast. We're going to live in a caravan park by the sea." " WOW", I said, thinking a caravan park would be difficult for two elderly people. I thought about the comfort and privacy in the home she had over the fence, the accessible toilets, the easy mobility access for their buggies, the comfort and ease... and, of course, the air-conditioning.  But this was me. My logical, boring, sensible self who stopped running with the wolves a few years ago to stay put and feed puppies. With passion and spontaneity, nothing is impossible. Dreams, fun and laughter with the passion of love have no "what ifs".

She thanked me as she raced off to make breakfast. I thanked her. I had a smile on my face and hope in my heart.

Later that morning I saw them head up the street in their scooters, her in the lead. He, a well dressed man in a impecably ironed shirt/ tie and a cream 'going out' hat, chasing after her, as fast as his motor would allow. Both had a spring in their wheels. Yes, I'm quite jealous. 

Time to hit the hay. Early mark tomorrow.
Remember, dribbling in old age isn't always because of ill fitting teeth.
Cheers
Ms Red