A few weeks ago I asked Kelsey if anyone had ever asked her to marry

I knew there was one and she’d said yes to him, though the marriage lasted only a few years. She thought for a moment and then started listing names of men and women who’d asked. I stopped her when I’d heard enough.

I told her about my two half-assed proposals, describing in detail one. The other was made to a woman I was besotted with, though you’ll notice I kept one foot firmly in reality: “If you asked me to marry you I’d probably say yes.” That woman let my words fly by without much notice. Besides, she was already engaged, though that marriage didn’t last long either.

Kelsey and her daughter came to stay with me for August in 1977. After they left I had a huge hole in my life, so I wrote her and asked her if she wanted to live with me. She wrote back immediately, yes.

We celebrated our fortieth year of being in a committed relationship on Labor Day weekend, opening a bottle and toasting each other and the years we’ve had together.

We lived a thousand miles apart in 1977 and it wasn’t until June 1978 that we were able to be together full time. Since then we’ve lived in three houses, though two were on this property. The daughter now has a family of her own. It’s been a remarkable time, full of adventures. The funny thing is, if I’d proposed marriage to her Kelsey would have said no.

Labor Day weekend was also the anniversary of our first meeting as freshmen at a party during orientation weekend at college. That was a Saturday night in 1969. She wore a yellow mohair sweater and jeans and managed to break straight through the barriers I’d carefully constructed over the previous four years. She told me later she talked to me because I was the guy with the longest hair in the room. I called her the next day to see if she wanted to go to a movie on campus. She said yes and that started our adventures. We were the two on campus who, when it was pouring rain, were out rolling in the grass laughing our heads off. The daughter’s father said we were crazy.

Kelsey’s favorite movie back then was Morgan: A Suitable Case for Treatment, which she’d seen seven times. She liked crazy, especially when there was good dialogue.

So many things happened to both of us between that meeting in 1969 and her visit in 1977. Most of that time we were in different states or countries. A lot of that time I wasn’t happy though knowing her bust me out of the constant suicidal ideation, my only real companion until I met her.

In June 1978, when I finally arrived and we could be living together full time, she wore a white tank top, long printed skirt, and a huge smile. The daughter was almost 8, standing by her, holding her hand. The house she’d rented had been built in 1854, a carpenter gothic mechanic’s cottage. That was our home for thirteen years. The daughter’s thirtieth high school reunion was this summer. One of her friends saw a picture of me and said I looked the same. It doesn’t feel that way inside.

Inside I feel like a flower is still unfolding, one that started to bloom forty years ago.