"She's the One"

Mom was a fixer. Whether it was as simple as sewing a button back on a pair of faded overalls for one of her eight children, or repairing a broken tractor on the farm she ran single-handedly while holding down a full-time job, there was nothing she couldn't fix. And that included people, too. I'd often come home from school in the afternoons to find her sitting with a stranger at the kitchen table, sipping the cup of coffee that was forever in her hand.

"Who's that, Mom?" I'd ask once they'd gone. Mom would always take off her glasses, rub her eyes and say the same thing: "Just someone with a problem, who needed to talk." That's exactly what I was now, only Mom couldn't fix this problem for me.

Oh, she'd tried. On my wedding day, in particular. I'd been so careful with my new suit that morning. I had wanted everything to go perfectly: to settle down and make Mom proud. But I'd had second thoughts lately. The whole thing was happening so fast. And then my fiancée was late to the ceremony.

"She's not the one, Mark," Mom told me, standing there in a fancy dress. "It's not too late to call this off."

"But Mom! What about all the food? All those people?"

"Don't you worry," she said. "I can fix all that. The important thing is, she's not the one."

I knew Mom was right. But I was young and headstrong, and so eager to start a family of my own. I convinced my mother, and myself, that these were just cold feet. I went through with the wedding. Mom died of complications from diabetes a year later. My wife and I spent the next nine years trying to save the marriage we should never have rushed.

Now I was divorced, and my ex-wife and two children had moved clear across the state. Meanwhile I was barely making ends meet working as a mechanic in a factory. That's when I met Louise. 

Louise had long blonde hair, soft eyes and a constant smile. Although what I first noticed about her was how easy she was to talk to. And we had plenty of time to talk, side by side, while I fixed the machines Louise worked on. It was the first time since Mom died that I'd found someone I could open up to. Louise was a great listener and, divorced with two kids herself, she really understood my problems.

Soon we were eating lunch together in the cafeteria. Louise knew money was tight for me and would pretend to make too much lunch for herself "by accident." Our conversations were continuing well past quitting time. It didn't take long for me to realize I was in love. I felt like the luckiest man alive when Louise said she was in love with me, too.