Fence Sitting

Gardens of Versailles

One hot summer Sunday we took Dan’s (the guy I’d been seeing for the better part of a year) wonderful grandmother gambling. During the drive we were regaled with stories from her youth. The 91 year old French born grandmother had survived WWII, and had a brother who fought in the French resistance.

Her accent added color and depth as she told us of how she watched her older brother jump out of their apartment window to escape ‘zee Nayzis’. It was a lovely time; her and me playing penny slots and Dan roaming around. Due to a lucky streak on Mermaid’s Gold, lunch was on me.

My affinity for older people is fairly large. When Dan’s grandmother exclaimed ‘oh Zu-liette wat a lovely day!’ I was more than tickled. My own grandparents were (and still are amazingly) a huge fixture in my life. Our older generations have so much to teach us.

Did I mention Dan was an only grandchild? One chance…one grandchild to pin all hopes of meeting the next generation on. With Dan giving many cues as to his increased attraction, I worried how long my indecision could be kicked down the road.

What was holding me back from fully committing to Dan? How hard is picking one side of the fence to come down on? Especially when the grass on one side was lush with the promise of having all dreams realized.

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