Shortly after Cyndi and I got married, we moved to a house in Round Lake Beach. We were living in a very small house in Grayslake on the day of our nuptials. I mean, it was a very small house. It was more like box. We rented a three bedroom, one bathroom house that had a separate kitchen and living room. There was a detached, two car garage, a nice sized backyard, and a screened in porch. We had two dogs at the time--Leinie and Friday. The landlord allowed us to keep them in the house, but charged us $100 more for rent. The total was $1200 per month.
Cyndi wasn't paying much for rent before we moved in to the house, and my share in the three bedroom, garden apartment in Lakeview was no more than $350 per month. $1200 was more than we were used to, but something we could handle.
We signed a 14 month lease on the place, and only threatened the contract once. It was about five months after we moved in when two jobs in Seattle were made available to us through our employer. Cyndi and I were working for a large nursing home company when we met. We were going to break our lease when we accepted the jobs in Seattle, but my job fell through the day I had called a moving truck to head us West. So we wound up staying the course.
After we got married, we thought about finding a house we could buy. It didn't make sense to pay someone else's mortgage off. We started looking for a place of our own.
Once we found a place, a few miles north of us, we moved in and began our life as husband and wife. A couple of days after we moved in, we met our neighbors. Our house was on a corner lot, so our only immediate neighbors were to our left (if in the house), or to our right (if looking at it).
They were a retired couple. They had been living in the house since it was built. The complex we lived in was filled with houses that were attached at one wall. They called it a zero plot line. We were going to be the 2nd owner of the house.
We met them during the day--our neighbors to the left and right. He was in his mid 70's, she in her early. He compensated for her. Her memory loss, for two people who worked in a nursing home, was obvious. They invited us in for coffee, so we accepted. Our house was a two story, theirs was a ranch. It was immaculate, cleaner than clean. But it was just the two of them. She was excited to have guests, and offered to take Cyndi around on a very quick tour.
When we sat down for coffee, we told them our story. We had met the year before, knew we were meant to be together, got engaged, planned a wedding, had a wedding, moved, and began our life.
Cyndi looked at the wife and asked her to tell us the success of their marriage. She wondered aloud, why their union lasted so long.
The wife asked us both to follow her, as if she wanted to recreate the tour. Instead, she walked us into their bedroom and pointed to a picture. "This is the reason," she said. "Put a picture up over your bed. A picture from your wedding night. It will always remind you of the love you had for one another; the love you have for each other."
We went back to the kitchen and finished our coffee. Later that night, Cyndi put a picture of us, from our wedding night, over our bed. "Maybe she's right," she said.
We've moved a couple of times since then. From the house in Round Lake Beach (which my dad bought from us and which I sold again when he died two years ago) to the condo in Wrigleyville, to the corporate apartment in Blue Bell, PA, to the house in Elk Grove Village, where we live today.
We've always had the picture over our bed, in case she was right. Our love hasn't wavered.
In case she was right.
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