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We were a marvelous combination, determined to survive.
When we were together, each of us more alive.
There was no way to forecast what our end would be.
Never did I dream that love’s survivor would be me.
It’s best that love can’t forecast the future that is pending
We might not choose ever to love if we could know its ending.
For it is inevitable, after true love’s gain,
for one or the other, the ending will be pain.
The prompt words today are forecast, determined, marvelous and combine.
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/01/25/rdp-friday-forecast/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/01/25/fowc-with-fandango-determined/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/01/25/your-daily-word-prompt-marvelous-january-25-2019/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/01/25/combine/
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
My grandparents were engaged when he was 16 and she 15, and married 11 months later, according to tradition. They lived to celebrate their 59th anniversary, and throughout their life together, they held hands and gazed into each other’s eyes like two teenagers. My grandmother outlived my grandfather by 6 months, and when she was gone, we found little notebooks all over the apartment, all filled with only one word repeated again and again in different languages – his name. I have never seen this kind of love and devotion anywhere else, and I always think that I am blessed to have witnessed it.
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So sweet. Thanks for sharing their story. Love hearing this.
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There is also a story of their engagement – the cutest! – but I had already written it up in my short novel so I don’t want to repeat.
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Oh c’mon. Repeat!!! A good story is worth retelling.
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It’s all your fault, Judy, and it’s your lovely poem that sent me down the memory lane.
They lived in two small towns, close to one another. My grandfather would ride his horse to the other town, where as he had heard, the richest man in town had a bunch of pretty daughters (ten, to be exact). So he would tie his horse to a tree next to the stone fence (the only stone fence in town), climb that tree and try to sneak a look at the girls in the courtyard. Pretty soon my grandmother’s dad caught on to it, came out, motion the youngster to climb down, and asked him, “Who is your father?”
“Reb Avrom” (Mr. Abraham).
“Reb Avrom the shoemaker?”- with derision.
“No, Reb Avrom Chaim, the Rabbi of Zhitomir.”
At this point, the richest man in town threw the gates open and issued an invitation that became legendary in my family, “Nu, if you want to marry, come in, and if you don’t – leave.”
So my brave grandfather walked in, the three marriageable age girls were called out from the house, my grandmother being the youngest of the three, and the boy had to choose. This is the first time they saw each other, the second time being at the engagement party, and finally, under the wedding canopy. And my grandfather always said that all sisters were lovely, kind, and sweet-natured, but he picked the best!
This is true; I’ve met older people who remembered their engagement and wedding.
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OMG… I love that story. The precursor of Match.Com!!!!! I think you should blog this. I’m afraid those who have already read the blog will never see it.. or people won’t read comments. It is a wonderful story.
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Thank you, Judy, but, as I’ve mentioned, It’s already a part of the book, and I don’t want to repeat myself. Actually, it’s a part of anthology of Russian authors, compiled and translated by my son, called “The Times of Turmoil.” Originally it was published in Russian.
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Well, thanks for retelling it here. Want me to reblog it along with a link for where to order the book?
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Thank you so much for your kind offer, Judy. You gave me an idea to publish it myself in installments, since every chapter starts with a description of one of our traditional holiday dishes, but without an actual recipe, so I can link each chapter to a recipe. I will ask my son for the legalities of copyrights, etc. You are brilliant, my friend!
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Great idea.. I have an Indonesian cookbook where each recipe is preceded by a story the grandmother tells about growing up in Indonesia and a tale connected to each recipe.. I love that cookbook. If I were home, I’d give you more info. about it.
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We’ll see what my son says; it’s his decision, or the publisher’s, perhaps – I simply don’t know.
As to recipes combined with stories, I am sure you’ve read Como Aqua Para Chocolate, haven’t you?
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Yes.. and saw the movie as well.
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It is so magnificent that nothing stands up to it, in my humble opinion. Both the book and the movie, that is.
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Remember her quail in rose petals recipe? Viva Mexico, the restaurant I’ve written so much about, serves it..but shifted to chicken in rose petal sauce because people complained about the quail being too sparse. He will still do them by advance order, however! He’s resurrected a lot of the traditional recipes. So far no one has made love under the table after consuming them, however.
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How do you know? Are you looking under tables all the time? In the Frida movie, Frida Kahlo managed to make love to her girlfriend under the table in a restaurant, while calmly talking to Diego Rivera, who was sitting across the table from them.
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Were all the chapters written by you or were they by different authors?
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It’s an anthology that contains works of 12 authors, mine included. All chapters in my short novel, “My Grandmother’s Recipes” are written by me., but there are no recipes in it, only descriptions.
https://books.google.com/books/about/The_Times_of_turmoil.html?id=vAIYAQAAIAAJ
My son is on vacation out of the country right now. I’ll talk to him next week, when he comes back.
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So true about love. You just never know how it will evolve or how long it will last.
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That was so sad. So beautiful, but so sad. Very well crafted, dammit. How dare you evoke actual emotions.
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Ha.
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You may know I have buried two wives. When we got together Jackie said: “You are not burying me”. Nevertheless, one of us must do it
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