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Every day, after spending most of my time doing laundry, answering emails, making phone calls, carpooling, dog walking and homework battles, I have one special moment that is filled with anticipation.  And at this time, I want only want one thing: I want to hold the man I love; I want to feel appreciated, validated and yeeeees. Sexy.   

But, let me tell you, in this house, I have to fight for it.

Each night, when my husband, Mike comes in the front door, I run down the stairs, my “competition” hot on my heels. 

“Oh no you don’t!” I shout, determined not to be outdone again.  But, four legs prove to be more effective than two.  Sparkle, our terrier-mix, is five steps ahead of me and every afternoon, beats me into Mike’s arms. 

“Oh baby. MMMMMM. How’s my puuuuupppy? MMMMM, Sparkle,” Mike murmurs sweet nothings and nuzzles Sparkle’s furry neck with the kiss I feel was meant for me. 

Damn. 

For the record, I want you to know I try hard to stay in a grateful mindset every day. And yes, that includes letting a man and his dog have their moment together. 

After my first husband, Will died from a rare cancer seven years ago I thought I would never have sex again.  So, in the scheme of things—good health, happy family, and yes, a cute dog and even cuter husband—things are going pretty well.  And along with the cute husband comes…well, you know. 

I take nothing, absolutely nothing, for granted. There was a time when nothing was all I thought I would have.

Years before Mike, Sparkle and the battle over the end-of-the-day-kiss, I had that crazy met-you-in-my 20s kind of love in my first marriage to Will. You know, when even after 15 years of courtship and marriage, I would still wake up in the morning and think, “40 more years together would still not be enough.”

When Will died, there were lots of practical questions. Should I finally add his last name to mine for the baby’s sake?  Do I keep his clothes or not?  How do I hold onto the memories?  How do I help my daughter, Chloe hold onto the memories of her father?  Should I return to work? Where should I live?  

But, when it came to matter of my heart, I had only two questions:  Who will love me?  And when?

“God laughs at those who make plans,” the old Yiddish saying goes.  I planned to be alone. And for four long years, I was.  But, right after I uprooted my young daughter and me out of Atlanta and away from my successful television news career, did God laugh and start making His own plan.

Whatever your belief system, whoever is your God, let me tell you meeting my second husband, Mike took Divine intervention.  A delicate sequence of events had to unfold with such exact timing, that if any single moment in that sequence changed, Mike and I would never have met. 

Mike and I should have met 25 years ago in college. We were both at UCLA, English majors who switched to History.  We even lived on the same street at one point.  

Fast-forward 25 years.  For Mike and I to meet, UCLA’s men’s basketball team had to go to the Final Four in Atlanta, I had to go to a blogging conference in New York (which I did not want to do), Mike’s brother had to bump into a couple he hadn’t seen in 30 years, and tracking me down had to literally be Mike’s “job.” 

Because I’m a so-called, “notable alum” of UCLA based in Atlanta for CNN, I was on a list of people to be invited to the basketball game.  Mike runs the operations for all of UCLA’s sports programs and was also in charge of the special guests.  Sounds easy enough.  Except I had already quit CNN and left Atlanta and Mike’s PR guy couldn’t find me.  (Which is odd, since I’m pretty easy to find. I mean, crazy viewers EASILY find me all the time to tell me I should have a nose job or wear less make up.  Mike’s PR guy never even came close.)   

One afternoon, Mike was mulling his checklist of names on his list of invites when his brother, Robert, called to say he had bumped into the parents of a childhood friend.

“Can you believe it?” Bob exclaimed,  “Roxanne’s parents were sitting at the table next to me. The waitress said I should just go up to them or I’d always wonder if I was right.” Then Robert added almost as an after thought,  “You should check out Rox’s blog.”  When Mike logged on to Roxanne’s blog, he read that she had interviewed me in New York City.

Voila.

It would still take another couple months for Mike and me to meet in person, but when we did, God indeed laughed because shortly after that first meeting, Mike and I started dating and making plans that stretched into the sunset of our lives. 

And therein lies the mystery of love, for I will always love Will, our life together, the dreams we had. Will’s picture is still up in our house.  Our daughter, Chloe is free to speak about him, ask questions and sentimentally wish that he were still here.

Love never dies—which is something I now know because I love Mike. I love our life. I am grateful that I have the chance to give my daughter the fullness of a family life she would have had, if cancer had not crept up and stole Will away.

So, as I stand on the landing, arms crossed over my chest, my foot tapping impatiently as I watched Mike give Sparkle, the dog one last kiss before he reached over to hug me, I feel ever so grateful that love does not die, but grows and grows beyond the boundaries of my wildest imagination.

Former CNN anchor, Carol Lin is the mother of one daughter and the co-founder of TulaHealth.  She is a regular ShareWIK.com contributor.  Visit her on the web at CarolLinReporting.com.

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