Boundary Waters

I was wondering what it would be like to take a canoe trip up in the Boundary Waters. I'd last been up there in the early 60's on a canoe trip out of West Bearskin Lake with my brother and some friends through the YMCA. This story is the end result.

"Holy crap," Lonny Johnson exclaimed and banked his Cessna 185 float plane hard to the right. He'd caught a glimpse of something shinny on the shore of the lake. Maybe it was a reflection off the hull of the canoe he was looking for. He leveled off and flew back, keeping his eyes focused on the north shore of Little Swan Lake.

            The guy he was looking for was named Charles McRoberts. He'd been missing for two days, but Lonny had only received the call that morning. He was working with the Search and Rescue crew out of Ely, Minnesota. Ely was in the Boundary Waters Wilderness Area of northern Minnesota and considered to be the gateway to the intricate string of lakes and forests hugging the border between Minnesota and Canada. Search and Rescue spent all day yesterday in canoes looking for McRoberts but had come up empty. They'd called Lonny that morning asking for his assistance and he was more than willing to help. He'd worked with them before and he liked the team, four men and two women, highly trained professionals who were all skilled in handling the adverse conditions that often arose in the Boundary Waters.

            Little Swan Neck Lake was about a half mile long and maybe a quarter mile wide. It was surrounded by pine trees and not much of the shoreline was visible. From past experience Lonny knew that 'Little Swan', as the locals called it, was not a good lake for camping due to its lack of room for a camp site. The trees were just too close to the shore which was really nothing more than about six feet of pebbly beach surrounding the lake. Lonny throttled the engine down as low as he could go and settled the Cessna in about a hundred feet off the surface, eyes intent on watching the shoreline. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Then he saw it. The canoe was resting half in and half out of the water in an indentation in the trees. The guy was laying next to it, not moving. Lonnie pulled the plane up above the tree line and circled back for another look. Yep, it was the guy he was looking for. He radioed Ted Peterson, the head of the rescue team with the news.

            "Ted," Lonny said when they'd made contact. "I've got him."

            "Where exactly is he?" Ted sounded out of breath. This was the second day the guy had been missing. They'd probably been paddling hard all morning. Lonny knew he'd be in a hurry to get to the site.

            "He's on the north shore of Little Swan. Near the west end."

            "Jesus. How'd he get way over there?" Ted wondered out loud. Lonny heard paper rattling. Ted was checking his maps. "He's not even close to where he'd supposed to be."

            "Ya' got me." Lonny was circling back again. "He's not moving."

            "We're two lakes away, over on Granite. Got a portage of seventy five rods into Beauty, then one hundred and thirty five rods into the west end of Little Swan. We should be there in a few hours. Can you get down there to him?"

            "It'll be tight, but I think I can do it." Landing was no problem. Taking off would be a challenge. The Cessna should be able to do it, though. "I'll get down there. You hurry it up. I'll contact you again when I get on the water."

            They signed off and Lonny made ready for his landing.

            Charles "Mac" McRoberts lay on the rocky shoreline dying. At least he thought he was. He'd given up all hope of being rescued until he heard the single engine of the plane. He wanted to look up but he couldn't move. Then the plane passed over and the sound of its engine drifted away and Mac thought he'd imagined the whole thing.  Then, unbelievably, the plane circled back. He permitted himself to hope. He'd be saved. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

            Charles McRoberts was a fifty nine year old business executive for a successful computer repair company located in St. Paul, Minnesota. He was an avid outdoorsman, comfortable with himself and his abilities in the wild. He'd canoed the Boundary Waters nearly every summer since he was first exposed to the area with his church group through the YMCA when he was fifteen. He loved the peace and quiet of the region, but he also loved to exert and prove himself. He had started taking solo trips ten years ago, stretching the limits of his physical abilities. The guys he hung out with all admired him. His ex-wife thought he was nuts and his current lady friend was ambivalent. Mac didn't really care. "Life is for the living" was his motto and he planned to live life to the fullest or die trying. Which, on this trip, he almost did.

            He'd been out for three of the ten days he'd planned when he had hit Little Swan Neck Lake. The day was sunny and warm with a strong wind blowing from the south. He'd been drifting, regaining his breath after a challenging 50 rod portage into the lake. His sixteen foot Wenonah Kevlar composite canoe bobbed confidently in the water. Mac watched a mature bald eagle soaring above the tall pines that surrounded the lake. The next portage was at the west end. At one hundred and thirty five rods it would take him a while to get to the next lake. He reached over the side and cupped his hand, wanting to splash some refreshing water on his face. And, just like that, an unexpected wave broke and caught the bottom of the canoe at the wrong angle and it tipped, tossing him over board. He braced himself for when he hit the water, but he wasn't prepared for how cold it felt. In early June the ice hadn't been out for more than six weeks and the water temperature was only around fifty degrees. The shock caused him to lose his breath. The weight of the clothes he was wearing pulled him under. In those first few seconds he thought he would drown. But adrenalin kicked in and he forced himself to the surface and grabbed for his canoe, which was floating upside down within arm's reach. He was able to pull himself half out of the water onto the canoe but his strength was gone. He lay there bobbing in the water trying to catch his breath but he was having a hard time. There was a pain in his chest and his right arm was numb. He was wondering if he'd suffered a mild heart attack when he passed out. When he regained consciousness his canoe was bumping against the rocky shoreline of the lake. He gathered himself, willing his body to move as he crawled and pulled himself as far out of the water as he could. The last thought he had was how good the warmth of the sun heated rocks felt underneath him. Then he passed out again. For the next two days he drifted in and out of consciousness, not knowing that a search party had been organized and people had been looking for him since the morning after the day of his accident.

            Lonny set his plane down with the precision of the confident pilot that he was. The twin pontoons skimmed the water and then he settled into a light chop and taxied toward where the canoe and the victim lay. He radioed Ted with his update.

            "I'm on the water and making my way to the shoreline," he said into his mouth piece. "I still don't see any movement."

            "You be careful." Ted replied. "You have your raft?"

            "I do." Lonny taxied as close to shore as he dared. "I'm going to use it to check on this guy."

            "Be careful, man," Ted said. "We'll be there as soon as we can."

            Lonny signed off, anchored his plane and got his raft out of the storage compartment. In a few minutes he was in the water, paddling the fifty feet or so between his plane and the shore. The guy still hadn't moved and Lonny wondered if he was soon going to be making contact with a dead person. Lonny had been working with Search and Rescue for the past three years. Prior to that his life had not been too easy. When he'd been in his early twenty's he had enlisted in the army and become an airplane mechanic stationed  in Afghanistan. When his time served was over he came back to the states, where he'd had a hard time adjusting to the life he'd left behind before he'd enlisted. He had changed. He was glad to be done with the war and had turned his back on anything having to do with killing. For those first few years after he'd returned he had kind of turned his back on society too and had gone through a tough period with alcohol and drugs. He knew he had some issues to deal with, but right now he was just taking life a day at a time. He'd stopped drinking and smoking pot, bought his Cessna got his pilot's license and was just trying to live a decent life. So far he was happy with how things had turned out. He'd started a little business taking customers to remote fishing areas in the Boundary Waters and Canada. Ted was a friend and also a vet, but he was a veteran of the Vietnam war.  When he called Lonny with the opportunity to work with Search and Rescue, he jumped at the chance. It gave him an opportunity to be useful and perhaps help people. Over the last three years Search and Rescue had made a dozen rescues, all successful. Everyone had lived. As he approached the guy on the beach he wondered if maybe this would be the first dead guy he'd have to deal with.

            Mac was dimly conscious of the events taking place around him. He'd heard the plane flying by overhead and he thought that it had landed on the lake. He just wasn't sure if what he was aware of was for real or simply tricks being played on him by his imagination. He was in bad shape. He knew that for sure. He couldn't move the right side of his body. He had lost track of time and he had no idea if he was going to live or die. Since the accident he had been unconscious most of the time, but when he came to he was somewhat lucid. When he was conscious he spent most of the time replaying the events that had brought him to this shoreline in the middle of the Boundary Waters.

            He'd been planning this trip for a good six months. This was to be an opportunity for him to get out and prove himself. That's the kind of person Mac was. Life to him was a competition. He was a driven, type A type personality type of guy. Driving to work to the company he owned was a chance to race other drivers in his high end Lexus RC-F. Going to the gym was a time to challenge himself to do workouts better and faster than the people around him. He rarely relaxed. He was divorced and had no children. He liked to force himself to be the best he could be. He never permitted himself to be sick and he looked down on others who got ill as weaker than he was. He worked hard to make his business a success and he enjoyed the money that came along with it. Being rich allowed him a degree of freedom to challenge himself even further. This canoe trip was a chance to prove to himself that he could survive a long solo trip through the Boundary Waters, something that not many people could say they could do.

            He'd set it up that he would call his lady friend, Mary, every evening on his cell phone. Which he did. What he didn't tell her was that instead of going for a ten day trip, most of which was going to be camping and fishing on one lake, he'd planned all along to really push himself to see how far he could travel in those ten days. So Mary had no idea where he was. When he didn't call that night of the day he'd capsized, she immediately called the authorities. She'd driven up to Ely early the next morning and had been talking to Ted.

            "He went in at Clearwater Lake," she told him. "At least that's what he told me." She had a sneaking suspicion that Mac might pull something stupid. "But you never know with him. He tends to do pretty much anything he wants to do."

            So he could be anywhere, Ted thought. What a jerk to put people through this. But to Mary he tried to be consoling. "Don't worry. We've got a lot of experience with this kind of thing. We'll find him."

            When Lonny's call came in, the first thing Ted did was radio Mary. "We've found him. Our pilot is with him now, and we should get to him in a few hours."

            "Is he alright?" Mary's voice was full of concern.

            "He seems to be. Our pilot is approaching him now in his raft. We'll keep you posted."

            For some reason, Ted was finding himself not liking this guy they were rescuing. He didn't have a lot of patience for people who felt the world revolved around  just them. He tried to calm down and center himself on doing his job. Lonny came in on the radio.

            "I'm with him right now."

            "How's he looking."

            "Not good. I can't see any broken bones. He's unconscious. It looks like he capsized and drifted to shore with his canoe. He's out of the water, but he's pale and probably dehydrated. I don't think he's moved since he came up on shore. I can feel a pulse, so that's good."

            That was good news, Ted thought to himself. He was back in his 'Rescue' mode. "Keep him warm with a blanket and see if you can give him some water." He checked his watch. "We should be there in under two hours."

            "Sounds good. I'll keep you posted." Lonny signed off.

            In his raft was some bottled water. Lonny grabbed a bottle, twisted the top off and was turning to give some to the victim when the guy made a quick movement, startling Lonny. Yep, he's alive, Lonny thought to himself, thinking that the guy now might have a chance to live through his ordeal. Lonny bent to give him some water and the guy opened his eyes, making  contact with Lonny.

            "Who the hell are you?" The guy asked.

            "Lonny Johnson," he answered. He wanted to be friendly and see if he could get the guy talking. It would help him to judge his state of mind. "Pleased to meet you. I'm a pilot with the Search and Rescue team. What's your name?"

            "Charles McRoberts," he said and then groaned. "Man, get me out of here. I don't feel too good."

            "We've got our rescue team on the way. They should be here in less than two hours."           

            Mac groaned again. "Can't they get here any sooner?"

            "They're coming by canoe. They'll be here shortly."

            He sighed and closed his eyes. Lonny wondered if he had passed out. After a few minutes his eyes flickered open. "I can't feel my right arm or leg."

            "Here, let me give you some water," Lonny moved to lift his head, thinking, I'll bet this guy had a stroke.

            He drank a little, most of it running down his chin. "Damnit. What the hell is wrong with me?"

            Lonny gently lay his head back on a jacket he'd folded up to serve as a pillow and covered him with the blanket. "The rescue team had a medic with them who'll check you out. Just rest. You're going to be OK."

            The guy lay his head back and closed his eyes. "Thanks." And was quiet for a few minutes. Then added. "You can call me Mac. It's short for McRoberts."

            Lonny laughed. "Yeah, I kind of got that."

            Mac groaned again and then gave him a look half way between a grimace and a smile. "Smart guy you are," he said, and then passed out again.

            Lonny stood up and looked around. The wind was still light out of the south. The chop on the water was manageable. But the problem was that out to the west some clouds were building up and that might not be so good. In the north country, in June, storms could blow up quickly. Just a few years ago straight line winds had damaged an area of the Boundary Waters just fifteen miles east of where he was right now. Fallen trees out there formed piles, some of which were thirty feet high, that now were dried out and lay like dried straw waiting to burn. All it would take would be a spark from a lightning storm and the whole forest would ignite. Lonny watched the clouds saying a quick prayer that Ted and his team would get to him sooner rather than later.

            His thoughts were interrupted by Mac. "Hey buddy. Can I have some more water?"

            Lonny raised Mac's head to drink and then helped him lie back down. "How're you feeling?"

            "Not good." Mac sighed. "My damn right arm and leg. I can't feel them."

            Lonny didn't want to be the bearer of bad news. Let's just get him out of here, he thought to himself. "The medic should be here in about an hour. She's good. She'll be able to help you."

            Sara Larson was the medic, and, like Lonny, had been in the war in Afghanistan. But she had adjusted to life back in the states lots better than he had. She was grounded and settled. She was also a good friend. "She knows her stuff," Lonny assured Mac. "She'll take good care of you."

            Mac rested for a few minutes and then came to. "I'm not sure about this," he said.

            Lonny had no clue what he was talking about. "What?"

            Mac made a movement with his left hand. "All of this."

            "I'm not following," Lonny said. He looked at Mac, who seemed distant, like he was drifting away.

            "If I've got a stroke, if I can't move...man, I'm not sure I'm ready for that."

            Lonny watched his patient, as he was now thinking of Mac as. He kind of got what Mac was saying. Here was a strong, healthy, in shape guy in the prime of his life, and now it may be that he would spend the rest of his life crippled and unable to do the things he was used to doing. Anything he could think to say sounded trite and dumb. So he just kept quiet and patted Mac on the shoulder. In a few moments Mac closed his eyes and drifted off.

            Lonny had seen this kind of behavior before in the war with soldiers who had been shot and wounded, or who had been hurt in roadside explosions. Soldiers injured so badly that their lives had been changed forever. And even though Mac's situation was not even closely related to those he'd seen in the war, the end result was the same. No matter what Mac's life was going to change. He was going to have to learn to deal with it, just like Lonny had, and Sara had and Ted had. No matter what your expectations are, life doesn't always work out the way you planned. You had to accept life's challenges and hopefully grow from them and move on. Lonny knew that for a fact.

            He sat back on his heels and watched the clouds building up in the west. They didn't look too bad. Maybe we'll get out of here OK, he thought to himself. The more pressing issue had to do with Mac and getting him safely off the lake. The plan would be for Sara to check him out and make him comfortable. Then Lonny would transport Mac to the harbor in Duluth which was about an hour's flight south.  From there he'd be transported via ambulance to the hospital. The staff there could deal with Mac's physical well being, but his mental well being was something else again. Lonny thought about what he, personally, had gone through after returning from Afghanistan. It had been challenging to say the least, but he had preserved and was trying to make something positive out of his life. He guessed that Mac was probably one of those successful guys who had made a name for himself and in so doing was used to having people do whatever he wanted them to do. Mac's life will change in a big way, Lonny thought to himself, especially if he comes out of this crippled due to a stroke. The more he thought about it, the more he was starting to feel for the guy.

            Just then, Mac regained consciousness. "So what's your story, pal?" he asked, his words slurring a little. "How'd you end up here flying an airplane?"

            "Float plane," Lonny said, trying to lighten the mood. "It's a Cessna 185." And Lonny told him about Afghanistan, and how hard it had been coming back, and the drugs and alcohol, and getting straight and sober, and finally how he ended up flying for a living and working with Ted and Search and Rescue.

            Mac was silent for a few moments, taking it all in. "How old are you anyway?" he asked.

            "Thirty eight."

            "Married? Kids? Family?"

            "No, no and no." Lonny answered. Then he smiled. "Still looking."

            Mac groaned, whether in pain or from past memories, Lonny wasn't sure. "I'll tell you something, young man, you've got your whole life in front of you. Don't waste it."

            "I hear you."  He was thinking about Sara.

            "I'm richer than rich," Mac continued. "I've got it all." He then indicated the numb side of his body. "But if this is what I think it is, I've got nothing."

            "I disagree," Lonny said, despite the glare he got from Mac, a guy obviously not used to being disagreed with. "You got your whole life too," he said, "It'll just be different."

            Mac was silent, giving Lonny a stare. "I'm not used to being talked to like that."

            "Well, take it or leave it, it's the truth."

            Lonny sat back and looked out over the lake to the west toward where Ted and his team would be coming in off the portage. He wondered if he'd over stepped some invisible boundary. He didn't mean to be a jerk. He just felt strongly that Mac should realize that things could be a lot worse. He could still move parts of his body. He could still use his mind. He'd seen people in lots worse situations.

            "I suppose you're thinking it could have been a lot worse," Mac said, breaking into Lonny's thought.

            "As a matter of fact, I was thinking that very same thing."

            "You know before you got here, I had a lot of time to think," Mac said. "Maybe too much."

            "What'd you think about?" Lonny felt it was good to keep Mac talking.

            "About life, mainly," Mac said with a weak laugh.

            Lonny looked at him. "What'd you come up with?"

            "Not much." Mac was silent for a few moments, reflecting. "Maybe this. This situation here," he waved his good arm over his body, "It sucks." Then he held up his hand to stop Lonny from saying anything. "But, yeah, maybe you're right. Maybe it could be worse."

            Lonny smiled at him. This guy was not a quitter. "I could tell you some stories."

            "I'll bet you could," Mac said. "I'll bet you could." And he seemed to relax and fall in on himself, as if he had come to some inner conclusion. Like maybe his situation could, in fact, really be a lot worse. And he passed out again.

            Lonny looked at Mac, wondering how the rest of his life would play out. Would he recover from the stroke or remain partially paralyzed the rest of his life? He'd probably never regain full use of the right side of his body. How would that affect him? Would he mentally be able to cope? Mac was a successful businessman and somewhat of an athlete. How would Mac adjust to the changes and challenges ahead? Did he have someone close to him who would help out? And the big question was this: Would Mac choose to allow his life to get better or would he let it spiral out of control and get worse? Lonny could tell Mac was a fighter. If he had to bet, he'd bet on him. He just might make it.

             Just then a shout came across the water. Lonny looked up and saw Ted waving. The rescue team was through the final portage. They would soon be here. Help was on the way. Lonny looked back at Mac. His face was calm, almost peaceful. Lonny reached down and felt for his pulse. It was a little stronger than when he'd first arrived. Lonny took that as a good sign. He stood up and got ready for Ted and his team. There were already halfway across the lake, hurrying to complete the rescue. He looked down at Mac. Maybe he's begun to make some sort of peace with himself, Lonny thought. Maybe he'll come out of this OK.     

Is There Such A Thing As True Love?

The news feed on my browser has more stuff coming at me than I can bear sometimes. Reading the reader's comments is usually interesting, however, if not sometimes kind of depressing. Anyway, that's where the idea of this story came from. The topic is completely made up, but it's probably out there somewhere.

Dave Callahan's browser was set to scroll through various news stories of the day. He was idly looking at them when one caught his eye. "Is There Such A Thing As True Love?" The story was based on an article a psychologist had written looking into the nature of true love. He was intrigued and he read it. Turns out there wasn't much astounding there. The psychologist had done a twenty year study and written an article detailing his findings. It all came down to what, in Dave's mind, was your basic psycho-babble about the nature of love and how everyone was different so every relationship was different and some relationships had stronger feelings of love than others and on and on until Dave had just had enough. The author never even answered the question about whether or not there was such a thing as true love. But what Dave found to be really interesting was the 'comments' section at the end of the article. There were over a thousand of them. A nerve had definitely been touched and reading some of them was very interesting. The jest of it was that the vast majority of the people writing in were of the opinion that yes, in fact, they believed in true love. By at least twenty to one. Easily. "Crazy," Dave thought to himself. "Lots of romantic people out there." Many of the comments were from women, but there were a surprising number from men, too. He found that he couldn't stop reading them. "I found my true love after divorcing my husband of fifteen years after years of neglect" one women wrote. A guy said, "I married my high school sweet heart but it didn't work out. We just drifted apart. After we divorced I met my true love." Another female wrote, "We met in college and hit it off right away. We've been together ever since. It really is true love." There were positive comments by straight couples, gay couples and lesbian couples. In a way it was kind of cool, Dave thought, that there were so many happy couples out there.

            As the days went by, Dave found he really couldn't stop thinking about the article and the concept of having one true love. He knew a lot of happy couples, and, if he had to guess, all of them would subscribe to the belief that their relationship was one based on true love. They did seem happy together and Dave had no reason to doubt them. But there were also many people he knew who had been divorced. How did the idea of true love fit into their view of relationships? He remembered a conversation he'd had with his mother shortly before she passed away. His parents had divorced when he was fifteen. His father had left his mother for another woman, whom he subsequently married. They were together for five years before his father died. Some years after his death, Dave's mother remarried and she spent the rest of her life very happy with her new husband. But when Dave asked his mother if she ever had a 'true love' kind of relationship she answered without hesitating. "Why yes, your father." "How could that be?" Dave asked. "He left you for someone else." But she was adamant in her belief and would not budge. In the end Dave wasn't sure if he was happy for her or sad for her. Happy that she had experienced true love or sad because her 'true love' had left her for someone else.

            The article also caused Dave to look more deeply into his own past situation with regard to relationships. From an early age he had always wanted to marry and have a family. He had been married twice. Once when he was in his early twenty's to a woman whom he'd had two children. They had grown apart, divorced and a few years later he married a woman whom he'd been together with for over twenty years, before they, too, had grown apart and divorced. He was a good father, but marriage hadn't worked for him. Had true love been a factor in each of his marriages? Not really, if he was honest with himself. He'd felt a great deal of affection toward each of them in the beginning. But that changed over time, as other insurmountable life factors got in the way. Some of his conversations with friends over his lifetime had hinted that maybe he'd married and had a family to prove to himself that he could do better than his father had done with his mother. There was probably some truth to that, except that deep down he really did want to be a father and husband. The father part had been wonderful. The husband part, not so much.

            A couple that he knew were both on their second marriages. They'd been together for over twenty years. He was convinced that they would say that their marriage was based on true love. Why was that? Because they both were devoted to each other, supported each other and enjoyed each other's company, as well as giving each other space and time to grow.

            Maybe that's what it came down to when it came to true love. More than the depth of feeling one had for the other person, it was also the ablility to accept that person for who that person was and to be part of the growth in that person's life. While thinking about all of this, Dave thought of the movie, 'Princess Bride' which was one of his favorites. The concept of 'true love' was the basis of the movie with the two main characters meeting, falling in love, becoming separated and finally reunited again, all the while bolstered by the fact that true love would eventually bring them back together. Their love was visceral and very passionate and Dave found himself wondering how strong that would have been after being married for twenty or thirty years. He hoped it would have survived.

            A friend of Dave's often talked about her idea that relationships weren't designed to last longer than twenty years. People maybe had three good relationships in them in their lifetimes. One, early on in a person's twenty's before kids are born. Then, a second, middle period, where two people have children and raise a family together. And, finally, a third relationship toward the end of one's life when the child rearing and intense job years are over. "Successful marriages, maybe combine all three relationship elements," she said,

            "What about true love?" he asked her.

            "What about it?"

            "How does that fit in?"

            She was divorced after nearly thirty years of a less than fulfilling marriage. She laughed. "I don't believe in true love. I'll leave that to you romantics."

            Is true love, then, only for romantics? Dave asked some of his male friends and most of them were very uncomfortable with the question, looking at him in a weird way with a kind of "What's wrong with you?" look on their face. Only one said that he believed in true love. Others had never really thought about it, and, when pushed, didn't really have an answer. But some of the comments on the article from guys said that they'd believed in true love, so that said something. Dave was really not sure why he was obsessing over the question. It all came down to the fact that even though he hadn't experienced true love, he still felt that maybe it was out there. That maybe it did exist. It did for others. Why not for him?

            Dave was in a long term relationship that had been going on for over ten years. It was the kind of relationship where they had met and been friends before falling in love and committing to each other. Friends told him that she was the kind of person he should have been with all along. He didn't disagree. He felt a depth of love and affection for her that he never had felt before. He was one hundred percent committed to the relationship. They were mature adults and each had their own interests, but they loved sharing their life with each other. It was the happiest he'd ever been in his life and she told him that being with him made her happier than she'd ever been. He could easily see them being together for the rest of their lives. She wanted it too. Neither of them had a desire or need to be married.

            When Dave asked her whether or not she believed true love, she told him that she didn't. "Look, I'm just happy we're together," she said. "What more do you want?"

            "As long as you're happy, I'm happy. I guess I'll just have to be the romantic one in the relationship," he laughed.

            She smiled, getting what he was saying. "So it sounds like you believe in true love."

            "You, know, I believe I do, the more I think about it." Dave was trying to be honest. He told her about the article and the impact it had on him. Maybe true love really was different for everyone. Maybe the point wasn't about true love forever and ever, but was the idea of committing to the relationship through the good times and bad. To be with the person no matter what just for the simple joy of being together and having the fulfillment of a loving and caring relationship. Which was how he felt with her.    

            "Does it bother you that I don't?" She asked.

            "No." He liked that they were talking about it. "Just don't hold it against me," he added kiddingly.

            She laughed. "Don't worry. It doesn't matter to me that we see things differently. How about you?"

            "No. I appreciate that we are different and have our own views. I'm just happy being with you. I like our life together." He paused and then added, "I'm just glad we found each other."

            She looked at him for a long few moments and then reached over and squeezed his hand. "Me too," she said, her voice honest and true. 

            At that moment Dave realized that whether what they had was true love or not, he didn't really care. The important thing was that they were together and committed to each other. And that was good enough for him. As to the question about whether or not true love really existed, well, he'd leave that for the psychologists and the movie goers to figure out. He had all he needed to know right there beside him with her.

They Say It Gets Better

The front desk in the story is like the one where I used to work. Everything else is made up based on thinking about how people are usually way different then we first make them out to be. For better or worse. 

The name tag worn by the guy at the guard desk read Dan. His job was to check the ID badges of the employees as they entered the huge office building through the revolving doors from the parking ramp. All day long during his eight hour shift he eye-balled everyone that passed by, checking to see if the photo on the badge matched the person wearing it. His eyes were steel gray and they never seemed to stop moving, missing nothing. His hair was buzz cut so close that his scalp shone through. His blue uniform strained against his protruding belly. His gun belt was thick and black and the revolver seemed too big for its holster. He looked to be about fifty years old.

            Dan never smiled. He rarely spoke and he seemed like the kind of guy you just wanted to avoid at all possible costs. So when tall, thin, haggard looking Jeremy Larson tried to walk by without his badge and Dan stopped him, who knew what was going to happen.

            "Just a second, there, buddy." Dan spat out aggressively. "What do you think you're doing?"

            Jeremy paused, confused, acting like he had no idea where he was. "What?" The question squeaked out.

            "Your ID badge, pal. Where is it?"

            Jeremy looked down at his shirt pocket where his badge was normally clipped. "Sorry. I must have forgotten it"

            "You can't go in, then. Rules are rules."

            Jeremy looked around, suddenly very distraught, like he didn't know where he was. His eyes watered up. Then he dropped his briefcase, put his head on the counter and started to cry.

            Dan was taken back. This just didn't happen. People passing by glanced at the scene unfolding but just kept walking, clearly embarrassed for Jeremy but not wanting to do anything about it. Dan quickly took over. He called his boss, asked for an assitant, and then hurried around to where Jeremy was hunched over, all the while his eyes never missing a face or a badge passing by. He put his arm over Jeremy's shoulder, picked up his briefcase and carefully moved him away to a quiet corner beyond the counter.

            "Take over for me," Dan said to the assistant when she showed up. "I'm going to take this guy for some coffee." As he started walking away with Jeremy, Dan's demeanor changed. "What's the matter, man?" He asked compassionately. "What's going on?"

            Jeremy was clearly very shook up, but was able to softly articulate, "My wife passed away a month ago and I thought I was ready to go back to work. Guess not." He added, with a weak smile of embarrassment.

            Dan walked slowly beside him, arm still around Jeremy's shoulder. All around them people hurried by, only a few giving the odd looking couple slowly making their way down the crowded hallway a passing glance. Dan's eyes softened. He slowed his steps and ducked his head close to Jeremy's ear. He almost whispered, "Hey, man, I understand. I lost my wife ten years ago. It's still painful."

            Jeremy looked up at the big guard, searching his face. "Does it ever get better?" he asked, a hopeful expression in his voice.

            Dan looked at him, taking his time with what he wanted to say. He felt for the guy. Felt an affinity with him and wanted to give him a sense of hope. "It does," he said, quietly, and then added, "It's hard, especially those first months, like you're now finding out. But you know what? If you're lucky, you eventually learn to live with it. It does get better with time."

            "You know, that's what people tell me. But I don't know if I believe them. I loved her so much."

            Dan slowed his pace and then turned Jeremy so they were facing each other. "You'll find a way, man. You'll have to." Then he added. "For me it helped when I thought about what it was my wife would have wanted me to do. She would have wanted me to go back to work. You know, get out in the world and keep living."

            Jeremy snuffled back his tears. "Really?"

            "Yeah. It helped me a lot to think like that."

            They continued walking down the hall. Jeremy seemed a little more comforted by Dan's words. By the time they got to the break room, he seemed more in control of himself. "Thanks, Dan. I appreciate your patience with me."

            "Don't mention it," he said as they found two chairs and sat down. "It's hard, I know it is. Believe me, you just have to have a little faith. It can work out."

            Jeremy smiled with a sense of relief. "I hope so. It's been hell so far."

            Dan went for some coffee and they sat for a long time talking. Jeremy seemed to calm down and start to come to grips a little bit more with himself and the death of his wife. Dan was happy to see that. He wanted things to get better for the guy. But all the time they were sitting together he never let on the depth of the sadness he still felt. In fact it had been ten years, two months and seventeen days since his wife had died. The pain was still there. The loss still intense. The love not diminished. He was out in the world. He was working. Doing the things he should be doing. All those years that had gone by since her death and he was still waiting.  He was still trying to heal. And, despite what he had told Jeremy, the truth of the matter was that for him, it really wasn't getting any better.