She would tell him what she wanted in her life--her hopes and dreams for the future--and he would listen intently and then promise to make it all come true. And the way he said it made her believe him, and she knew how much he meant to her.

She turned to face him. She reached over and touched his hand, hesitantly, gently, amazed that after all these years had somehow known exactly what she'd needed to hear. When their eyes locked, she once again realized how special he was. And just for a fleeting moment, a tiny wisp of time that hung in the air like fireflies in summer skies, she wondered if she was in love with him again.

And for an instant, I fantasized about wrapping my arms around her right then and there.

I hope to be remembered as an author who defined and exemplified excellence in crafting the modern love story.

Yet I have come to believe that while the past is unchangeable, our perceptions of is are malleable.

He took a few steps before responding. "You are special," he finally said, and the way e said it made her wonder if he wanted to add something else.

At times, he even admitted that he'd been more an observer of the world than a participant in it.