A Love Letter to Pablo

Once upon a time, in the autumn of life, I found myself standing at the crossroads of love. Divorced twice, I carried the weight of past heartaches and the Wisdom of years gone by. But at 50, something shifted within me. I was ready to embrace love once more, not as a desperate seeker, but as a hopeful wanderer.

In the digital realm of match.com, I stumbled upon Pablo. His profile didn’t set my heart racing, but I decided to give it a chance. After all, I was no longer interested in wasting time on superficial encounters. I craved depth, purpose, and shared laughter.

Our first date surprised me. Pablo’s eyes held stories—of travels, dreams, and quiet resilience. Just as our connection sparked, he embarked on a Jewish retreat to Israel. Distance couldn’t dampen our flame; instead, it fueled our conversations across continents.

Letters flowed like poetry. We wrote of sunsets over Jerusalem, of ancient stones whispering secrets, and of our own hearts finding solace. In those two weeks, we fell in love—the kind that transcends geography and defies logic. When Pablo returned, our reunion was electric. We vowed never to part again. Seven months later, he slipped a ring on my finger, and our love story took flight.

Life swept us away. Pablo’s job led us to Cape Girardeau, where we built a nest of shared dreams. And then, like seasoned travelers, we retraced our steps to Cincinnati—the place where our hearts had always belonged. Pablo retired after 33 years with P&G, and I found my purpose—to inspire others in their third act. Together, we championed love’s resilience, proving that age is but a number.

As the sun sets on our days, we hold hands, laugh at wrinkles earned, and dance to the rhythm of our love. Our story whispers to those who listen: “You’re never too old for love.”



So, dear reader, whether you’re 20 or 80, know this: Love awaits you, patient and eternal. Embrace it, for in the twilight of life, we find our brightest stars. I hope my love story inspires countless hearts, reminding them that love blooms anew, even when the calendar pages turn.