Wednesday

May We Join You?




Thirty & Not Happy

Mary had just turned thirty and was feeling the weight of that and two children under the age of five. Her first and only husband didn’t even make the birth of her second child. He said as he was exiting their marriage because he couldn’t take the pressure any more.

Now Mary with the assistance of her parents and other loyal family members was making ends meet. And today was family day and that meant the Zoo was going to be their agenda.

Mary has tried dating numerous times and found the experience not very productive. She told me that dating before marriage was an enjoyable activity for her. But now that her life has changed dating didn’t seem to fit that puzzle which resembles her life.

But like things in life, life was going to throw her a slow ball and hitting a home was going to be a changing force in her life.

They purchased hot dogs, chips and cokes and found comfort eating on a slightly used wooden bench, which contained a heart carved in the center of the eating area. The sun was slightly peering thru the adjoining trees and a slight breeze was in the air.

Mary Did Something

One bench over was a man sitting alone and didn’t seem to be having a good time. Mary totally out of character for her approached the man and said may we join you? The man speechless for a moment nodded yes and the girls shared part of their spoils with him. In a matter of minutes they were conversing like they had know each other all their life. Mary told me she didn’t know why she approached the man but something compelled her to do so.

Months have passed now and there a family in every sense of the word. John proposed Mary accepted and marriage is being discussed and the children can’t get enough time with him.

Once again action on someone’s part brought four souls together and it looks like happiness is destined to be their future. So do something and take your turn at getting the brass ring on the Merry Go Round. And then just sit back and enjoy the wellness that love provides.


Don L. Terrill

photo by wohnai