the heart always wins.

She met him at 17. He was 22. They lived in the same little town in Germany. They were madly, hopelessly in love.

For one reason or another they separated. He left Germany, as did she, choosing to study at a university in Illinois. She graduated college, married another man, had four children, later got divorced, and nearly three decades later found herself back in that little town in Germany. And there he was. She met him again. He too was three decades older. And they were still madly, hopelessly in love.

The two are now engaged, living on a yacht in Southern Italy, coming back to the states every few months to visit friends and children.

And so is the story she tells me while checking out at Trader Joe's one Tuesday afternoon. She is a short, cherub like woman with rosy cheeks and the kind of smile that can soothe even the faintest of hearts. She dives into the story of the love of her life when I comment on her German accent. She mentions her hometown in Germany but how she's currently in the states to see her kids who live in Chicago. But friends now live in Annapolis, "So we decided to come get some things for dinner."

"We?" I ask.

"Yes, me and my fiance," she replies.

"But you have four children?" I ask.

"My dear, it is a long story. Romantic, but long," she smiles.

"If you knew me, you'd know that I love a romantic story," I note.

"It's true," my co-worker chimes.

And so she tells the story of the man who held her heart for nearly thirty years.

"I moved away, married another man, had children... and yet I always loved him."

She's nearly teary eyed now. As am I.

She points to a man standing just beyond the window. He's got a sweet head of salt and pepper, thick black glasses, and a brown leather coat. He's gesturing to his wrist to let her know she's taking too much time. He then moves his fingers back and forth to meet his thumb- now she's talking too much. She and I both wave like complete saps lost in the fairytale she's shared. He laughs and shakes his head, then waves back.

A few weeks later the two come back into the store. She greets me with that great smile and an amazing hug. This is the kind of hug your mother gives, or your favorite aunt who spoils you yet doesn't see you nearly enough. He does just the same and I rave about how I've shared their story with all those dear to me. It shines as a glimmering reminder of what love and romance truly are.

He then says, "You are a sweet, sweet, girl."

I help them find some delicious cheeses to pair with the wine they've chosen and send them on their way.

Thirty years later they were still madly, hopelessly in love. And she always knew he was the one.

In a totally different dialogue with a friend today, she posed the question of whether or not it was actually possible for two people to still have those kinds of feelings for one another after such a long period of time. Was she crazy to think that was possible? All I know is what my sweet German friends have told me. And I think he put it best:

"My heart chose her at the very beginning. We lived our lives and spent time apart, but my heart had already chosen. And the heart always wins."

The heart always wins.