Last year, my fathers 68-year-old cousin, who we call Uncle E., married a sixty-something woman with all of the pomp and circumstance that a young couple would present on their first walk down the aisle. While I watched on, I was tickled to see my uncle decked out in his all white tuxedo, and in awe. Who knew that one could find love so late in life? If love knows no limits or time then its fair to say that we should all be able to find love at any point in our lives, right? Right.
While I am "young" (a sassy 31-years-old to be exact), I am geriatric in dating years. Year after year, bad date after bad date, the idea of freezing my eggs is seeming more and more like a viable option. At this rate it seems I won't find love until I am a "mature" woman, and while that used to scare me. I am now, okay with it.
The truth is, age never could and never will dictate when or how or why someone falls in love. Hell by all accounts, the process should be a bit easier---you'd be grown enough to know what you want, and the man would finally reach the maturity level you reached when you were 25---okay that's an exaggeration, but the ladies know what I mean.
Seeing my uncle smiling and genuinely in love, made me think about something my mother used to say: I never want to stop falling in love. I want to know love for the rest of my life. And indeed I do too, even if I'm sipping ensure side by side with my boo at a retirement enclave.