Courting Desire

“Mom, how do you know when you’re ready for marriage?”

“Well,” Dana’s mother replied, “I don’t know that anyone is ever ready for marriage. Lifelong commitment to another person brings many joys and sorrows too numerous to imagine.”

Helping herself to a thick slice of Finnish coffeecake, redolent with the rich smell of cardamom, Dana sorted out this thought. Her mother was famous for her baking, and the cake was still warm from the oven, golden brown and glistening with sugar crystals. Dana slathered the bread-like delicacy with butter, and looked around the farmhouse kitchen. Afternoon sunlight warmed the eggshell walls, sparkling off the sunflower canisters on the counter. It was an unusually warm afternoon for the season, and the kitchen window was open, allowing the yellow print café curtains to stir in the slight breeze. The smell of approaching spring, which indefinable, damp, earthy fragrance, combined with the homey kitchen atmosphere, caused Dana to wiggle her bare toes in childlike happiness. She always felt so safe and secure in her mother’s kitchen, as though encircled in a golden light, like the sunbeams that shone on the newly-scrubbed oak floor.

The girl chewed a moment, watching as her mother poured steaming coffee into mugs for each of them. The aroma of freshly perked coffee was a particular delight to Dana, conjuring up so many childhood memories: hearty breakfasts on cold winter mornings, afternoon “coffee” as her mother called it, a traditional break in the day’s activities for a light snack and a hot drink (even in summer) and as always, time for conversation, catching up on daily events. Coffee finished the evening meal each night. Guests were always welcomed to the home with the greeting: “Would you like me to make coffee?” And even voting day at school always arrived with the familiar aroma wafting up from the basement of the old two-room brick schoolhouse, where precinct volunteers lifted the heavy enameled tin pots onto the old gas stove. The fragrance of freshly-brewed coffee always lifted her spirits, as indeed a bit of caffeine often perks up weary workers on breaks.

After a few moments, the young woman continued. “No, I mean, how do you know if you’re really in love?”

“My darling,” Marta Jaarvinen answered, “if you have to ask that question, you aren’t.”

The memory of her mother’s words echoed in Dana’s mind as she stood dripping in the courthouse lobby. Nearly a year had passed and she found great wisdom in the older woman’s answer. She knew now that she had never been in love with Paul, and though she often missed his company, she realized sadly that real love was still unknown.