Stephen W. Leslie
It was, by all accounts, a scandalous romance. I was 62 she was 39. My son was only two years older than her. But we were in love and called each other every day. We were both escaping abusive marriages. We were both counselors, introspective and thoughtful. There was something intoxicating about being wanted, loved and heard for both of us. We became fast friends and hot lovers. One unseasonably warm March evening we stood out in her driveway just as a brilliant full moon filled the night sky. Gazing at the soft light, she turned to me and said, "I want to have a baby". My mind reeled. Images of diapers,a baby wailing, attending high school graduation at the age of 81, flew through my mind. But love makes us all stupid.
My hand on her tummy