Enchanted Blue Dancer

We met at work. We're convinced the Goddess stopped the Universe to introduce us. We'd been at the company for months, barely missing each other in many ways; then we were introduced by a woman neither of us had known more than a week, and who transferred out of the building a few weeks later.

It was love at first sight, in spite of our cultural, age, and race differences: I'm 42, he's 29; I'm Black, he's White; I grew up in Nebraska, he was born on Long Island, then transplanted to Arizona (where we met.) He likes cold, I like hot.

We frequently say we're the same person, in wildly different packages. We've been together for five years, through VERY difficult times. He held me together when my father died; now he's my support in taking care of my elderly, disabled mother.

Our differences make us more tolerant, since we bring a wide variety of experience to this marriage. Sometimes, I think I know better because I'm older; other times he feels "stupid" because he has less education. When we take a moment to 'connect', all of that goes away. I know a lot about a lot of things, but have never left the country. He toured Europe as a teenager. I've been humbled many times by what he can teach me.

Our double-edged sword is that now he knows what it's like to be Black in America, to be discriminated against. But in response, his heart and mind have opened up in ways he couldn't imagine, but did dream of, before we met.

When people stare, act shocked, assume we AREN'T together, refuse to ride the elevator with us, and tell us we're disgusting, we look into each others' eyes and thank God, Goddess and the Universe that we found each other again. At last!

I hated my name all my life, so he chose a new one. He gave me a journal with a copy of "Blue Dancer" by Degas on the cover, and told me my new name is Blue ... for the color of the sky, the depth of the ocean, & my melancholia. When he write love notes to me, they're addressed to "My Enchanted" and so I am.