I chose love.

We had a wonderful Valentine's dinner date last night. We went to the Wartrace Tennessee Walking Horse Hotel, known as Strolling Jim, named after the first World Champion Walking horse. A small, chistled town along side of beautiful hills, creeks and fields of pasture. This part of God's country hasn't been tarnished, yet. As we drove across the railroad tracks, I could see the warm, orange illumination of porch lights, inviting us to step unto the landing and enter in. We enjoyed small talk with our long known friends. The lobby a deep red, offset by the stunning old black and white pictures and slate floors. I immediately was glad we came. The old wooden trim had been polished to a fine mustered finish. I felt historic, surreal, enchanted. As we let ourselves rest down into the leather sofa, I glanced across at my Valentine. He has been mine for 25 years now. Our eyes sparkled. We know what lies between us. Our table was nestled in the music room. Darker than the other. Jazz music being tapped out from the piano. We talked, laughed, told old stories. We enjoyed fresh bread, fresh conversation and warm bluesy, jazzy music that filled the room. Our meal was wonderful. The dessert buffet endless. Filling even for me. I sat beside my Valentine. I felt his laugh. I remembered our stories he told. He leaned over and told me, "we are lucky." I see the dance of the sparks, as his head starts to nod. "We aren't lucky, are we?" I question. I smile. We know. We have what the Hallmark cards dare to write about. What the magazines tell one to dream of. Perfect? No. Chosen. Yes. A wonderful evening of history, atmosphere, music and food. We will choose to go again. And would choose him again.