It's cheese...that's the stuff that binds

I was over at Kristine's reading about her upcoming nuptials and feeling all giddy that she is marrying her best friend.

Honey, if I haven't said it to you recently, I am so glad that I married you, my best friend. And I have to share with the blogisphere the story of the couple on the bus that will be us in 40 years.

Before I ever met and married Scott, I used to live outside of Seattle and commute to work by bus. On Saturdays, the bus changed routes to include the quaint little downtown of the city where I was living because who needs Express on a Saturday morning? I noticed that the passengers on the Saturday bus were predominately from the retirement village~ many older ladies dressed up for shopping, but more elderly couples who held each other's hands stepping onto the bus, the husbands always seating their wives before taking their own.

One morning, a couple boarded and happened to spot some friends. I was not too many rows behind them and couldn't help hear the conversation that the wife was having with her friend; the husband casually looking out the window.

"Oh, and can you believe all that they are doing over there? Cutting down all those beautiful trees?"

"I know, I can't believe it myself. But you know, with all those people moving out here.....I hate to see them cutting down all those trees."

The elderly husband looks toward his wife and asks quite seriously, "Cheese? Who cut the cheese?"

"Honey, it's trees. We are talking about cutting down trees."

She patted him gently, a smile of knowing on her face while he shrugged and went back to his gazing. She continued her conversation; cheese cutting being a topic I am sure she has had to correct her husband on many a time. It would not break her concentration conversing with her friend. And fortunately, no one on the bus was breaking wind.

I sat back in my seat and wondered if I would ever have that type of relationship~ to be insync with another for obviously decades, continuing to interact with each other as they were a silly young couple, a retired old comedy act.

When my boyfriend decided to propose to me, surprising not only me but his family on a Christmas Eve, he did not present me with a ring- the symbol that love has no end. He chose a coffee table sized book about cheese. That's right. Cheese. Cause cheese is the stuff that binds.

I fast forward to us after our sixtieth anniversary, both of us about 83 years old discussing our marriage with our grandchildren:

"And would you believe that Pop-Pop presented me with a book about cheese to propose?"

"Trees? I didn't give you a present of trees, damnit! I cut the cheese!"

And I pat him gently and smile and go back to my conversation.