In general, the romance is gradually disappearing from our lives, yesterday slowly, and now rapidly. Times of breakneck speed and infinite survival. Is there any time for romance? We manage only drive from work to home, cook dinner and hurry to fall into bed! Where to find time for a romantic dinner by candlelight?
But still, some romantic story has ever happened in our lives, even if you are the most inveterate realist and pragmatist. For sure! Although, maybe he did not notice it, you fool! How did they understand the romance before? Woods, fire, guitar, songs about love. The girls kept their eyes lowered and dreamed of love. And what about a seashore. Fine sand and small waves. He and she. Of course, by the hand. Wander along the seashore. Then they ran. Beautiful. And romantic. In short, the picture of a good old film. Today is very different, but no less romantic!
Our acquaintance with my husband is perhaps a real modern romance? It was the beginning of perestroika. Iron Curtain collapsed, and we decided (with fright, I must say), that it’s time to feel free people. I flew to the USA to visit my friend. My first travel. But I was young, full of moral and physical strength. And most importantly – I craved excitement.
There I met an admirer. Not poor and significant. He offered me his hand and heart. And in addition – two jewelery shops and apartments on Manhattan. But I felt nothing for him. At all. I refused politely. I don’t need any stores and apartments overlooking the Hudson? What about love?
But everything has its end. My vacation was over. I flew home. There was a young man beside me in the plane. The flight was long. We ate, slept, read. And, of course, talked. He said he was divorced and lonely. I sympathized and offered to find him a bride. I must say, I always loved to find a match for someone. He looked at me sadly and said “Is there anyone like you?”. I flirted: “There is noone. I’m unique”. When landing, we exchanged phone numbers – just in case. At Sheremetyevo we said goodbye.
After a while, he called. I didn’t realize immediately who it was. We met. Just like friends. We drank coffee. For some reason, we did not want to part. We walked in the park. We sat on a bench. He tore off a branch of lilac. There were drops of rain on it.
Two months later I took my son and left my husband.
Of course, not everything went smoothly. But I have never regretted it. Because it was love. And it is! Still the sea is roaring. And the flowers are smelling sweet. And I read poems to him in the country, under the red shade. So, perhaps, I am still romantic … I think so. Or am I wrong?