Is there life after love ...
She thinks so.
= new reply since forum marked as read
How else would you explore the next love? 
Mr In The Wind came home from work early last night with 2 stitches in his finger. 
He was chopping veggies (onions) for supper at work.
She became very wise! 
Thank you... 
before his ill fated poker game. [img]
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Yeah... YOU say that, cuz you're old. 
Are your dogs all males ... [img][/img]
but I don't think I've ever seen Selena or this Bieber guy, although I've heard the name. I guess I'm too old and not interested in Hollywood happenings anymore. Selena seems like a lovely young woman though, polite, respectful, and refreshingly shy. Any guy would be lucky to go out with her.
In my case there very definitely is life after love. I had my first broken heart when I was six years old. My dad was in the Air Force and stationed at Bitburg, Germany in the mid 1950s. In the apartment building where we lived there was a little girl my age who lived upstairs whose name was Caroline. I thought she was really pretty but I was shy and couldn't break the taboo of talking to a member of the human race who had cooties. My mom is the one who introduced us while Caroline was walking her two gray weimaraner dogs in the German farmer's fields at the edge of the base housing. We had a gray weimaraner too (a wonderful dog) and so Caroline and I became friends and we would walk our dogs together. She started coming over to the apartment and I almost stopped playing with my male friends, who started kidding me for having a girlfriend, singing that rhyme "...sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g". I didn't care. Then one day Caroline came to tell me her dad had been stationed to another base and they were moving. I was heartbroken. On her last day before the move she stayed almost the whole day in my room, sitting on an old couch and just talking to me and looking out the window. From my bedroom window, you could see the German cemetery at Bitburg where Ronald Reagan would later come to commemorate the Nazi officers buried there. My mom, who was from France, would curse to herself in French, every time she saw it.
When Caroline left, our hug must have lasted three or four minutes and she kissed me twice on the cheek and walked out. I was only six but I felt deep heartache that I still feel after all these years. I didn't know what love was or consciously understand anything about the attraction between male and female. I just know I cried for several days. My mom tried to cheer me up by making goofy rhymes in French to make light of it like "Caroline en bois, Caroline en fer, Caroline en fil-de-fer" (Caroline made out of wood, Caroline made out of iron, Caroline, made out out of wire" but it didn't work. But I lived, although I sometimes think about her and I can still see her little smiling face and short 'page boy' style brown hair.
