Meant to be. By grand design.

Two women. Two strangers. Sat next to me. On a 3-hour plane flight. From Phoenix to Minneapolis.  I know them now. Sort of intimately. Delightful conversation. At first, I eavesdropped. They gabbed. Non-stop. Right from the start. Made me think. They knew each other. Not so. One of ‘em had a ‘People’ magazine. She intended to read. Never did. Just as well. Eventually, I butted in. Didn’t know if I would be well-received. I was. They’re nice. One a retired teacher. Lives in Buffalo. Not far from the Twin Cities. The other. Age 60. Trains bankers. Interesting. I’d like to know more. About her career. But one doesn’t learn everything on a first meeting. Anyway, she’s been married 17 years. To a man 17 years older than she. He’s ill.  Has been. For 5 years. She’s become a care-giver. But recognizes she’s not suited for the role.  Still, she tries. She’s drained. Exhausted. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Desperately needs respite. More than she’s getting. She’s coming off a business trip. A godsend. A break from life’s turmoil. I talked to her. About my role as care-giver. To dear sweet Jeanne. For the last 13 years of our 38-year marriage. There’s life after care-giving, I promised. Precious and joyful moments. I’m living proof. On my second true love. Could be that the three of us. Seated together. A mere coincidence. I suspect more. It was destiny. Meant to be. By grand design. –Jim Broede