He met her at a company picnic. She was flirting with another man, but her sense of humor appealed to him. She was smart. She could argue a point and debate with the other reporters. She wrote a story about gardening, even though she had never really been much of a gardener herself. She learned about it so that her articles would be better written. She was always able to master the skills she needed to earn enough to take care of herself and her little boy.
He was mesmerized, but she hardly gave him the time of day.
She moved to another city for a better job (two columns to write!) and started to receive weekly missives. There was always a little drawing and a story for her little boy. The adventures of the jackalope. Monkeys at sea. The drawings and the stories were so creative. He came to visit. Multiple times. They went to amusement parks, for picnics in the mountains and rented sail boats to skim over great lake.
She became fond of him and he loved her dearly. She finally gave him her heart.
The honeymoon was short as they were poor, but they went back to that place every year to celebrate again.
My father and mother weren’t always happy, but they were truly well met.
Love, February