Deja Vu All Over Again

When Ron and I first met in 1970 we lived in a one room apartment on Elm Drive in Beverly Hills. We slept on a Murphy bed that came out of the wall, we ate Goobers Peanut and Jelly, the only thing in Ron's refrigerator when I moved in, and Ron had a pile of dirty clothes in the corner. His idea of doing laundry was going to Bullock's every few weeks and buying new underwear and socks. The rest of the clothes he would take to the fluff and fold. To say he was not very domestic is a gross understatement. Those were great times. We were broke and happy. Our idea of an evening out was walking to MFK (the drug store in the old Beverly Wilshire Hotel, now the Beverly Regent) and getting a hot fudge or hot caramel sundae. That was a night on the town. The best nights were spent at home. We'd stay up all night talking. We had so much to say to each other, and we never tired of being together. Our landlord had plenty of complaints from the neighbors about out talking all night long. At one point we were warned that we would be evicted if we did not keep our voices down.

Flash forward 42 years. Only the location has changed, but not much else. Since Ron's been home, we have been up many nights for hours, talking, planning, discussing. I get up bleary eyed for the gym each morning, but it's worth it. Those nights spent talking in the past, and now, are such happy times. I wouldn't trade them for anything, even a decent night's sleep. Our evenings out are not at MFK anymore, but a trip to Whole Foods for gelato or the local yogurt for dessert are our idea of an evening out.

We've got no neighbors to complain about our talking now, so we're free to talk to our hearts content, all night if we want. I wonder if we'll still be talking all night when the halfway house stops calling in the middle of the night and wakes us up. That's what gets us started in the first place. Whatever the reason, I'm glad we still talking after all this time together!