Our Love Story

Ten years ago today, I reluctantly dragged myself to Union Terminal for a first date with the man who would become the love of my life.

You know him as Pablo the Great. Pablo the Magnificent. The funny, charming, retired engineer who somehow transformed himself into a yoga-loving adventurer with a heart as big as his smile. What you may not know is how close I came to never meeting him.

After I turned fifty, I realized something important. I didn't just want a successful career or a full life—I wanted someone to share it with. I had been married twice. So had Pablo. Neither of us had gotten it right the first time around.

When I turned fifty, I dreamed of celebrating with a trip to Italy. But I was divorced from a difficult second marriage and didn’t want to make that journey alone. Instead of buying a plane ticket, I set an intention. One afternoon, I climbed into the attic of my little house in Newport, rolled out my yoga mat, stood quietly, and prayed.

"I am ready to give love. I am ready to receive love."

Three months later, I logged back into Match.com.

A few weeks after that, I agreed to meet a man whose profile picture featured him standing proudly beside his Doberman. I wasn't exactly swept off my feet by the photo, but I was determined to stay open.

So I dragged myself to the museum. It wasn't love at first sight. But it was the beginning of something extraordinary.

We had only two dates before Pablo left on a previously planned trip to Israel. While he was away, flowers and handwritten letters arrived almost every day. By the time he returned, we had found something neither of us expected.

Our love story moved quickly. We met in July. We were engaged by February. By April, we had packed our lives into boxes and moved to Cape Girardeau, Missouri, for his work with Procter & Gamble. It was a leap of faith for both of us. And life tested us almost immediately.

Five months later, I lost my parents in a murder-suicide that changed my life forever. Then came long work hours, career demands, COVID, uncertainty, and eventually another move home to Cincinnati. For nearly a year we lived apart while Pablo finished his assignment and I returned to Newport.

It wasn't easy.

It was exhausting.
It was heartbreaking at times.
It required patience, grace, and choosing each other over and over again.

But I wouldn't change a single chapter.

Because those years didn't just build a marriage.

They built us.

Today, ten years later, we are living a life we once only imagined. We laugh more than ever. We travel. We dream together. We cheer each other on. We continue to grow—not despite getting older, but because of it.

One of the greatest myths about aging is that the best parts of life happen when we're young. Our story says otherwise.

I found the love of my life at fifty-two. If that can happen for me, there is hope for anyone.

Life can begin again.
Dreams can come true.
Healing is possible.
Love doesn't have an expiration date.

Pablo, thank you for giving me the courage to dream bigger, the confidence to spread my wings, and the steady ground on which to build a beautiful life.

You have loved me through my hardest days and celebrated my brightest ones. You have shown me what partnership really looks like.

I love you more today than I did yesterday, and I can't wait to see where our next decade takes us.

Happy Anniversary, my love.

Here's to proving every single day that life truly does get better with age.

Bold, not old. Always.