Lemonade Lessons

“Lemonade! Twenty five cents!”

My daughter and her neighborhood friends are shrieking up and down our street, their marketing plan for their lemonade stand consisting mainly of yelling their heads off.

And it’s working.

An adorable older couple on even more adorable matching bikes, complete with baskets and flags, glide up to the folding table parked in our driveway to place their order.

I am in sales and work from home so today I am perched on my sunny front step with my laptop since my office is anywhere I have a great wireless connection. I watch my kid serve up sparkling pink glasses of summer, making conversation as she does, “It’s my birthday tomorrow; I’m going to be 9!”

I smile to myself as I eavesdrop. She’s a chip off the old blonde block as anyone in sales knows: it’s not about the product it’s about the relationship. “Good job, kiddo,” I think to myself and calculate her someday commission into my own retirement income. At this rate, I’m thinking her innate ability to connect with people will help me secure a place on the Mediterranean.

The cute couple offer synchronized crinkled grins. And the curly haired woman pipes up, “Oh really! Well, I turned 90 last month.”

“And isn’t she beautiful,” the old man adds.

I cannot help myself, I simply must join in the conversation and inquire from my sun-drenched stoop, “How long have you two been married?” After all, I am eternally searching for evidence that true love exists and who better to ask than two almost centurions on matching bikes?

“Ha!” the old man laughs loudly and I am momentarily confused.

What’s so funny?

I don’t have to wait long for clarity when he proudly shouts back, “We’re not! We’re living in sin!”

The old woman giggles coyly.

“That. Is. AWESOME!” I announce as I yelp my approval.

Yeah, yeah. I am queen of conservative but there was something about this aged pair on this sunny spring afternoon that was very affirming. No matter where you stand on marriage, you couldn’t help but be taken in by the happiness they shared. The kind of happiness that makes you buy matching bikes and stop at lemonade stands together. The kind that makes you proclaim across manicured lawns and nuclear families, within ear shot of children, that you love this person and you don’t care what the world says.

They finish their drinks, thank my daughter and her friends, and sail side by side back down the shaded street.

My daughter runs up to me. “What’s living in sin mean?”

I laugh and reply candidly, “Well, it means that people live together but aren’t married.”

“Oh” she says and I see her processing the concept, one I will get into a bit more when she's 19, not 9.

“Normally, it’s not something that God wants people to do but I think when you’re 90 years old, God probably makes exceptions. We can’t be sure but what we can know is that they sure seem pretty happy together don’t they?”

“Yep!” she agrees and then announces, “And they tipped me a dollar!” She runs back to her business of pushing sugar water, obviously satisfied with my brief commentary on co-habitation because she is soon in a chorus with the rest of the kids once again, “Lemonade! Only twenty five cents! Cold Lemonade! Get it here! Only twenty five cents!”

I silently thank the older couple for the value of their visit. And I don’t mean the buck they tipped my little girl.

Love is possible.

At any age.