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<blockquote data-quote="neroshan" data-source="post: 101550" data-attributes="member: 8568"><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">After 21 years of marriage, I discovered a new way of keeping alive the </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">spark of love. A little while ago I started to go out with another </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">woman. It was really my wife's idea.</span></strong></p><p> <strong><span style="color: Lime"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">"I know you love her," she said one day, taking me by surprise.</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">"But I love YOU!" I protested.</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">"I know, but you also love her."</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">The other woman my wife wanted me to visit was my mother, who has been </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">a widow for 19 years. The demands of my work and my three children had </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">made it </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">possible to visit her only occasionally. That night, I called to invite </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">her to go out for dinner and a movie.</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">"What's wrong, are you well," she asked? My mother is the type of woman </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">who suspects that a late night call or a surprise invitation is a sign of </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">bad news.</span></strong></p><p> <strong><span style="color: Lime"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">"I thought it would be pleasant to pass some time with you," I </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">responded. "Just the two of us."</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">She thought about it for a moment, and then said, "I would like that </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">very much."</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">That Friday, after work, as I drove over to pick her up I was a bit </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">nervous. When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">nervous </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">about our date. She waited in the doorway with her coat on. She had </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to celebrate her </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">last wedding anniversary. She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">angel's.</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">"I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">were impressed," she said, as she got into the car. "They can't wait to hear </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">about our meeting."</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice and </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">cosy. My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady.</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">After we sat down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">large </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">print. Halfway through the entree, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips.</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">"It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small," she </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">said. "Then it's time you relaxed and let me return the favour," I responded.</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">During the dinner, we had an agreeable conversation“ nothing </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">extraordinary </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">- just catching up on recent events of each other's lives. We talked so </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">much that we missed the movie.</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">As we arrived at her house later, she said, "I'll go out with you </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">again, but only if you let me invite you." I agreed and kissed her good night.</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">"How was your dinner date?" asked my wife when I got home.</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">"Very nice. Much nicer than I could have imagined," I answered.</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">A few days later, my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">so suddenly that I didn't have a chance to do anything for her.</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">Sometime later, I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">receipt from the same place mother and I had dined. An attached note said: </span></strong></p><p> <strong><span style="color: Lime"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">"I paid this bill in advance. I was almost sure that I couldn't be there, but, </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">never-the-less, I paid for two plates --one for you and the other for you wife. You will never know what that night meant to me. I love you."</span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">At that moment, I understood the importance of saying, "I LOVE YOU" in </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">time, and to give our loved ones the time that they deserve. Nothing in </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">life is more important than your family and your close friends. Give them the </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">time they deserve, because these things cannot always be put off to "some </span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="color: Lime">other time . . ." </span></strong></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="neroshan, post: 101550, member: 8568"] [B][COLOR="Lime"]After 21 years of marriage, I discovered a new way of keeping alive the spark of love. A little while ago I started to go out with another woman. It was really my wife's idea. "I know you love her," she said one day, taking me by surprise. "But I love YOU!" I protested. "I know, but you also love her." The other woman my wife wanted me to visit was my mother, who has been a widow for 19 years. The demands of my work and my three children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally. That night, I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie. "What's wrong, are you well," she asked? My mother is the type of woman who suspects that a late night call or a surprise invitation is a sign of bad news. "I thought it would be pleasant to pass some time with you," I responded. "Just the two of us." She thought about it for a moment, and then said, "I would like that very much." That Friday, after work, as I drove over to pick her up I was a bit nervous. When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be nervous about our date. She waited in the doorway with her coat on. She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary. She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an angel's. "I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they were impressed," she said, as she got into the car. "They can't wait to hear about our meeting." We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice and cosy. My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady. After we sat down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print. Halfway through the entree, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips. "It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small," she said. "Then it's time you relaxed and let me return the favour," I responded. During the dinner, we had an agreeable conversation“ nothing extraordinary - just catching up on recent events of each other's lives. We talked so much that we missed the movie. As we arrived at her house later, she said, "I'll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you." I agreed and kissed her good night. "How was your dinner date?" asked my wife when I got home. "Very nice. Much nicer than I could have imagined," I answered. A few days later, my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I didn't have a chance to do anything for her. Sometime later, I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place mother and I had dined. An attached note said: "I paid this bill in advance. I was almost sure that I couldn't be there, but, never-the-less, I paid for two plates --one for you and the other for you wife. You will never know what that night meant to me. I love you." At that moment, I understood the importance of saying, "I LOVE YOU" in time, and to give our loved ones the time that they deserve. Nothing in life is more important than your family and your close friends. Give them the time they deserve, because these things cannot always be put off to "some other time . . ." [/COLOR][/B] [/QUOTE]
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