Aged love is the best love.

I didn't grow up with parents who loved each other. I didn't have a pair of grandparents, either. Mom's dad died young; without his calm , cooling nature to complement her, grandma turned into a dominating matriach who only gave a rat's ass for the one grandson born of one of her sons. Dad's dad divorced my grandmother after she bore his last child, leaving her to wither away with her birds in a one-bedroom apartment, surrounded by folks who speak a language she can't understand. Only for a small period of time did I have grandparents - when my grandfather remarried. But he died just 4 years after, and it was everything we could do to keep my step-grandmother from drowning in her tears.

So when I walked out into a parking lot and saw two elderly people kissing and caressing each other, well...I had to blink a couple times before I realized what I was seeing.

Maybe if it was two teenagers going at it, then I could scoff, shrug it off, and chaulk it up to hormones.

But they were at least 60. I was 50 feet away, but I could still make out their silhouettes. His thinning hair and her silver curls. His button down shirt and her cardigan. His back was against the car and she leaned against him. Her arms were around him and his hands were on her face. They were kissing and holding and hugging and it wasn't gross or over the top, but just right...like after all these years of bumbling and stumbling, they finally knew what love was.

I couldn't stop staring. I couldn't stop smiling. I felt my heart go mute.

Maybe I wanted to be them, I don't know. I guess since I'm just beginning to learn what love is and isn't, it was so wonderful to see two people who had gone before me and still turned out okay. Right now it seems like I'll never figure love out, let alone what to do with it. But seeing those two...I don't know...just for one moment, I felt like everything was going to be okay.