L.A. Affairs: An answer blowing in the wind chimes

We met in a ballroom dance class in Pasadena. I was a widow and found dance classes answered some needs. I got some exercise, had an opportunity to socialize and was challenged in learning new steps. Maybe I’d even meet someone special. In two years of dance classes that hadn’t happened, but hope springs eternal. During the third session of the classes, as we rotated partners, David appeared in front of me. “Hi, I’m Dave.” I’ll never forget the moment.

At the end of the class, a couple of more songs played, and David asked me to dance. I drove home that night with a smile on my face. That evening’s class had been especially fun. Over the next few weeks, David continued to seek me out. Eventually, I gave him my phone number. After a few phone conversations, he invited me over to his house for dinner. It turned out we had some common interests. I was a retired art teacher; he was a retired designer and illustrator. We shared a love of words and wordplay, and we made each other laugh. I was immediately comfortable with him.

On the surface it seemed we were an unlikely couple. I was the stereotypical suburban matron, a retired middle school teacher and had raised three children. I was single four years after my second husband died, but I had been married most of my adult life. David also had been married and had a daughter but had been a bachelor for 30 years. He had designed album covers for Warner Bros. and was a freelance graphic designer, living in Santa Monica for most of that time. He was from the Westside, and I had lived in cities east of downtown L.A. He is second-generation Korean American, spending his early childhood in St. Louis before his family moved to Los Angeles. I’m very “white” and a bit taller than him. We liked to call ourselves “the Asian and the Caucasian.” People seemed to take a friendly interest in us. I think our joy in each other was attractive.

A year after we met, David asked me to moved in with him. A few years before, he had moved back to a small house on the side of a canyon in Mt. Washington. I called it the topsy-turvy house, as there was a slant to the floor of the middle room and the small yard was uneven and also slanted in places. It was as different from my tract house in suburbia as it could be. There were treetop views, wild morning glory vines tumbling over the fences and walls, and a narrow, winding street to negotiate. A steep stairway next to his house led up to the road above. On quiet summer mornings, sometimes I would hear the opera singer across the canyon practicing. I felt part of a new world and a new life.

After my husband died, I had felt as though I wasn’t going anywhere and was stuck in a place that was no longer valid. I was retired, with no kids at home and no plan for the future. I wanted to grow, to be challenged, to experience new things and even be part of a couple again. I was unable to visualize any other kind of life than the one I knew until I met David, and then everything changed. I was in a new environment, painting again, experiencing companionship and love, and beginning a new phase of my life.

But it wasn’t always serene. David and I had our differences, and after years of having things our own way, we struggled to adjust. One day after an argument we sat on the porch under a hopelessly tangled wind chime. We talked and worked through our problem, reaffirmed our love and decided to be more committed to each other and our lives together. It felt as though we really had some resolution. As we sat quietly enjoying the moment, I heard some tinkling and looked up. Somehow the wires of the wind chime had untangled and were making music. It was magical. As we listened to the chimes, it seemed prophetic, as if the last bit of tangled issues between us had also been freed.

I did live with David for three years, but eventually we realized it wasn’t working. The equal footing we started with changed. I decided to move to Whittier, where I owned a condo. Over the years since, I’ve often thought of the wind chimes and how we had been taken with the magic of that moment only to succumb to a different reality.

But 15 years later, we are still a couple. Though living apart, we are more devoted to each other than ever. We have mellowed, found our rhythm and continue to be each other’s best friend, companion and sweetheart. We travel together, share our weekends, talk, laugh and email every day, and support each other in the challenges of life in our seventh decade.

So I think now the untangling of the wind chime was prophetic after all. We just had more work to do and more life to live to make the prophecy come true.

Wilson is a retired teacher in Whittier.

L.A. Affairs chronicles dating and romance. Past columns and submission guidelines are at www.latimes.com/laaffairs. If you have comments to share or a story to tell, write us at home@latimes.com.