The Most Beautiful Thing I've Ever Seen

On the day of our first date, we had been together for 33 years, six months, and six days, and the wild was still in her eyes. She twisted her long black curls, now streaked with silver into a bun on top of her head, and cracked her knuckles. Her fingers were still covered in the turquoise rings that I had bought her on the road trip to Santa Fe when we were in our twenties. Back then, we couldn’t even afford a tent, so we snuggled together in the desert night and let the light of the stars keep us warm. Lord, how the times have changed.

“It was sure nice of you to pick me,” she smiled sweetly, lipstick smudged on her teeth, but the same silly dimple punched into her right cheek and she looked younger. That was the same dimple our son had inherited, and his son after that.

“Well, I am happy to do it for a woman as pretty as yourself.”

She blushed slightly, then felt brave and looped her arm into mine as we walked down the rain-soaked pavement. The smell of wet cement was distracting and I resented it. I wanted to remember every moment of this date.

“Tell me where we are going again?” she asked and pulled me a little closer as the wind blew a stray curl down from her bun.

“It’s an old Italian restaurant down the street, we used to know the owners..” I stopped myself, and cleared my throat, “I used to know the owners. They have the most wonderful wine...”

“I love wine!”

“I know,” I smiled, and pulled her closer, “I know you do.”

We sat down in the corner of the dimly lit restaurant. We had both found a love of wine in the strangest place: a back alley bar in the heart of Addis Ababa. I had gone to Ethiopia on a work trip, and she had come along, tucked under my arm just so. When I came back from my work meetings, I found her sitting happily at a plastic table laughing with the restaurant owners, drunk on Merlot and injera. I had sat down, loosened my tie, and joined them. Those were happy days.

The waiter at the Italian restaurant spoke and shook me from my memories, “Good evening,” he smiled warmly, “Are we celebrating anything special today?”

She giggled coyly and fluttered her eyelashes, mascaraed with shaky hands. “First date.” She stated proudly.

I saw the crease in the waiter’s eyebrow before he nodded and gave another close-lipped smile. “Well, welcome! Are you ready to order?”

“Two glasses of wine,” she said casually, looking into my eyes.

“Merlot,” I clarified, and nodded at the waiter to show my appreciation.

As soon as he was out of earshot, she leaned over closer, our knees accidentally brushed. She blushed. My heart was so full it was heavy. I had no words.

So she spoke, “Tell me more about yourself.” She was nervous, I could tell, the way she twisted her rings around her bony fingers and the way everything made her laugh too loudly.

I sighed and smiled, at her eagerness. “Well, where do I begin? I’m an old man now. Former military. Traveled the world while my knees still worked.”

She laughed and held my gaze, “I have always wanted to travel….”

“Yes, it was quite the experience. Me and my wife, we got to go everywhere. A year in East Africa. A few in France. We even spent some time in Columbia but neither of us could handle the bugs,” I chuckled softly, walking a fine line of emotion that I was not yet ready to show.

She reached out and grabbed my hand across the table, “What’s the most beautiful thing you saw in all of your travels?”

I inhaled sharply and avoided the question, “Oh, I don’t know. I am going to have to think on that one.”

We waited while the waiter put down two glasses of Merlot in front of us. The same wine we drank at our wedding in Sonoma, the same wine that she craved during both of her pregnancies where I assured her it would be okay if she just had one sip. The same wine we drank after my mother had died and we stayed up the whole night in silence.

“Thank you,” she said to the waiter, but keep her eyes fixed on mine, “Alright then. Tell me more about your life.”

“Well, I don’t know exactly what there is to say. I raised two sons. Rented a sailboat for six months before my wife realized she was too easily seasick. We built our own house, which was filled with dogs and neighborhood kids, and then grandchildren. Then the house emptied. Now I am here, reflecting on a quieter life.”

She cradled her wine quietly, and I thought I saw a tear brimming her lower eyelid. I wondered if I had gone too far, said the wrong thing, spoke words she didn’t want to hear.

“I’m sorry,” I shook my head and pressed the palms of my hands into my eyes, “I didn’t mean to upset you, I just got to reminiscing…”

She laughed again, the nervous laughter, and flicked a tear from the corner of her eye. “No, no, it’s okay! I don’t know where all of these emotions are coming from! I just know that sounds exactly like the life I would’ve wanted to live.”

The waiter came back, more cautiously this time, sensing the emotion in the conversation. She complimented the wine and the mood lightened again.

“What about you?”I asked as we both swirled the liquid in our cup. Around and around like the carousel we couldn’t seem to get off.

“Oh, my life does not have stories like that. You know, the older I get the harder it is for me to remember things,” she laughed again, “I guess that is just a consequence of growing old.”

I nodded again and allowed the silence to be comfortable between us, something that only happens on the first date between old loves.

She held her glass in both hands and swirled it around, gazing intently into her glass, searching for memories in there. I saw the crease between her forehead and the dimple show once again on the right cheek and I knew she was deep in thought.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” I began softly, “But what is it you are thinking of?”

She laughed again, a genuine laugh this time. Showing a perfect row of teeth, minus the front right one she had chipped in a bike accident when we were in Germany.

“You know, it is the strangest thing, I don’t know if it is the wine or the company, but the fondest memory is coming back to me. Did you know that the first time I tried Merlot was in Ethiopia?”

“I know,” I said softly, not pausing to stop the tears that burned my eyes. “I know exactly where you were. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in all of my travels.”