I've known my Brian for about nineteen years. We met at Monarch Beach Tennis Club and became friends amongst a group of about twenty. When I left my first marriage, I chose to leave the club, too, though my generous father offered to maintain the membership for me. I declined because I feel life is full of transitions and I sensed I was embarking on one. It was several years before I saw Brian again. We've been together ever since.

It must have been true love for Brian, because he took on a lot when he entered my tiny life with David. When I left my marriage, I left with nary a penny, or just about. Just walked away from the insanity. I had never developed a career because my children had been my career, and I wanted to maintain some semblance of that for David. He was six years old when we struck out on our own.

I finagled, at a discount, a fabulous 2 bedroom, 2 bath apartment, two blocks from the ocean with its views and sounds. The rent was $500 per month. (Remember, this was Laguna Beach, CA!) The owner was a senior citizen who lived onsite and became David's surrogate grandma, my guardian angel. Her name was Marie and she passed on a year ago. Our sorrow is buffered by fond memories.

I worked several jobs around David's busy childhood.I often stayed up late at night to do freelance bookkeeping after he had gone to bed. My day job as an office manager for a high-end housing contractor and his wife who was a landscape designer, permitted David to take the school bus to my place of employment every day to be with me - truly our remarkable good fortune. I finagled the job, too. One becomes quite creative when desperate. Truth is, I didn't know what the hell I was doing, and the Coopers knew that when they hired me. Their hiring philosophy was based on chemistry - if a person "fit," they could train them. Working for Tim and Linda Cooper was one of many miracles during that stretch in my life. On occasion I also worked at the Laguna Art Museum on the installation crew for new exhibits. I loved being amidst all the drama found with creative types, but I also worked my ass off. On those occasions, David went to the Boys and Girls Club in town, or to Pat Morgan's - a dear friend who has a son David's age.

My life was surrounded by angels.

David grew up without TV. Actually, we had a TV - it was the required cable I couldn't afford, so we rented movies. I quickly learned we were so much better off without commercial TV. David and I talked a lot and read a lot. Our space was serene, and I cherish the memory of those years. Though money was tight, we got used to it. Being poor became our norm, and because it was our norm, we really weren't poor.

It was during that time that David told me for the first time, "Mom, I love you more than all the lampposts in the world." We weren't the least bit poor, were we?

It was also during this time that I allowed David to tape my telephone's voice message in faux Italian opera. The only message ever left was my father sternly advising, "Jesus, Irene, you'll never get a date with that message!" When I called him back, I believe my response was, "I don't want to date anyone who doesn't like faux Italian opera." My father sighed.

After Brian angelically entered our lives, there was a day when the three of us went to Costco. I had never been - couldn't afford the membership never mind a 500-pack of paper towels. Talk about visual overload! As we entered the cavernous store, David and I became slack-jawed and our heads never stopped swiveling. Brian sensed we were overwhelmed, but wanted it to be fun for us. He instructed David and me to buy anything we wanted. Anything. I didn't know where to begin - I was accustomed to having so little, my mind couldn't compute Brian's kind offer. It was like the movie "Pretty Woman," but with a sensible twist to it (and I might add I wasn't a hooker) - we were in a big box store, not Rodeo Drive, for petie-pie-sakes.

I should mention that over the years, Brian has begged me to go on a "Pretty Woman" shopping spree with him, but I've never been inclined. He should know better - my Annie Hall phase lasted longer than most. For years I shopped for men's clothing at secondhand shops. My best find (for dressy occasions) was a 1940s white tuxedo. The black, lacy bustier softened the effect. (heh-heh)

Believe it or not, that day at Costco, David and I didn't buy much - in all honesty, we didn't know how to. But it was a feeling I will never, ever, ever, ever forget - I felt like a star in a movie called "Pretty Lucky Woman."

I am still a Pretty Lucky Woman. Brian has lovingly parented David for ten years, and provided unconditionally. They have a wonderful relationship. Brian opened up opportunities that David never would have had, if not for him. David could even sing faux Italian opera and it would be music to Brian's ears.

Of note, with full disclosure, those years with David are the only time in my life that I struggled. (We won't go into the details of my first marriage.) In many ways, they were my richest years, the years I finally grew up and strived to make life work. I never, to the best of my recall, asked my father for money, but every so often a "little surprise" would appear in my mailbox. My Dad is another one of my quiet angels.

I look back on that time as a gift. David would agree. We both have been pretty lucky.

Happy Valentine's Day. xoxo