Love's Legacy

Ten years ago, we were nineteen, totally and foolishly in love. We said we wanted to get married... to their credit, no one took us seriously. But we did it anyway, a year later.

However, February 14, 1998 was our first Valentine's Day together. We each lived with friends, so to be alone together we had to go out. We had barely any money, and not a credit card between us. We wanted to make a reservation at the 'Notre Dame' restaurant in Muswell Hill, London. So we asked a friend who did own a credit card to call and make the reservation on our behalf.

It was an hour's bus ride down to London. I brought my best dress and he brought a shirt and tie. We went to his parent's house first to change, then took a taxi to the restaurant.

The Notre Dame isn't there anymore...it changed names many times before disappearing altogether. But it was a charming, intimate place. It had unfinished wood flooring and sculpted figures under the eaves... gargoyles, I think. He had salmon and I had an exotic fish dish sprinkled with pomegranate seeds. While sitting there we realised how overdressed we were, but then told each other, perhaps they will think we've just come from the West End?

We didn't take a taxi back to his parent's house. We had no cell phone to call, and probably no more money. But that was OK. We walked everywhere together. I remember I was chilly, I didn't have a coat. I'm sure if he had one he would have given it to me. But I didn't care. We walked in the dark, through the streets of North London, talking all the way.

It is the sweetest memory to me now, four kids, a house and two cars later. We were as poor as church mice then. I forget sometimes how little we had. Remembering helps to be grateful. But also, it makes me realise how little we really need.