Is romantic love still possible so late in my life?
Wednesday, July 16, 2025
This morning began quietly, with my Qi Gong stretches (buy books about Qi Gong on Amazon) as the sun slipped through the window. My body moved slowly, but with purpose. The light felt warm on my face, and for a moment, I forgot how old I am. After tea, I sat by the window and worked on my mystery story. The detective’s mind is still sharp—maybe sharper than mine these days—but I find comfort in creating little puzzles she can solve. It keeps my own thoughts from wandering too far.
An old friend with a surprise
Haruto came by in the late afternoon. We played Mahjong (buy a Mahjong game on Amazon) as usual, drinking sencha (buy japanese tea on Amazon) and sharing stories from years that now feel like someone else’s life. He still makes me laugh without trying. But when he stood to leave and I walked him to the gate, he suddenly took my hand… and kissed me. A soft, unsure kiss. I didn’t pull away. I didn’t know how. We both stood there, stunned. I laughed nervously, told him he was bold for an old man. He just smiled and said nothing.
Dreaming of a late love
All evening I’ve thought about that kiss. About him. About me. At this age, am I still allowed to feel this way? To wonder if love, or something like it, might still visit me? It feels almost silly—childish even—to dream of romance at seventy-eight. And yet, part of me wants to believe it isn’t too late. That maybe, even now, something beautiful could still bloom.
Tonight, as I lie in bed, I wonder if I’ll dream of Haruto’s kiss. Or if I should. But even that small hope—just wondering—makes me feel alive again.
