I lived the plot of a romance novel. Now i write them with heroines over 50 | members only

I was writing by the pool when I saw him — he had just given a surfing lesson. He was tan, he had tattoos. He had board shorts hanging off his lean hips. I really was gobsmacked. So much so,

I tracked him down the next day and booked a lesson. We sat by the pool and I asked him all about surfing, about his life. I wanted to understand what happened that made me go, _Wow, I’m

alive_. We hit it off and began a long-distance relationship. Everyone in my life was certain it was a fling, a rebound thing. Even friends didn’t seem to support my falling for someone so

“inappropriate.” But he was _so_ appropriate: He offered true friendship and a partnership with someone I unreservedly enjoyed. He was also charming, smart and funny; he made me laugh and my

heart race. I hated saying goodbye to him each time one of us boarded a plane, and I couldn’t wait to say hello again.  My circle in Seattle waited for it to end. I prayed it wouldn’t. My

life was happier. My heart was full (although I worried it might be broken again). My world seemed bigger, brighter, exciting. I used to ask Ty how it would end, or when it would end, and

he’d tell me to enjoy the ride, as if we were on a surfboard and not navigating oceans, planes and drastically different lifestyles. And here we are, 20 years later. It's not all

sunshine, obviously. Creating a blended family is never for the faint of heart, and we’ve contended with economic stressors and COVID-19, aging parents and moody teens. But we’ve learned to

become a team that puts the team first, something I didn’t have in the first marriage. We focus on what keeps us together instead of the differences between us.  And sometimes, our team

faces a crisis. Four years ago, Ty received a diagnosis that would change the trajectory of our future. But that discovery and the necessary treatments have brought us even closer. Sometimes

we don’t have romantic dates but rather "doctor dates." We are in this together. He’s my best friend, and I don’t want to contemplate a world without him. But that is the rub,

isn’t it? We are mortals with this mix of fragility and strength, courage and compassion. We love, we hope, we dream, we dread.