To Lose Balance Sometimes For Love Is

I Think It's Wonderful When A Love Story Begins With A Great Deal Of Romance And Affection, Passion And Excitement, That's How It Should Be. But I Don't Necessarily Know That It's The Wisest Thing In The World To Expect That It Ends There, Or That It Should, 30 Years Down The Road, Still Look As It Did On The Night Of Your First Kiss.

My Husband Is Not American. He Was Born In Brazil, Where He Grew Up Under A Filthy, Corrupt Dictatorship. In His Twenties, He Moved To Europe, Where He Lived For A While Under Various Socialist Democracies. He Spent A Few Years On A Kibbutz In Israel, Living Out A Utopian Experiment In Communal Existence.

I Want To Learn How To Speak Italian. For Years, I'd Wished I Could Speak Italian--a Language I Find More Beautiful Than Roses :)

He Endeared Himself To Me Forever The First Night We Met, When I Was Getting Frustrated With My Inability To Find The Words I Wanted In Italian, And He Put His Hand On My Arm And Said, "liz, You Must Be Very Polite With Yourself When You Are Learning Something New.

Given That Life Is So Short, Do I Really Want To Spend One-ninetieth Of My Remaining Days On Earth Reading Edward Gibbon?