At 67, I finally took my first solo trip to Malta, resolving to say “Yes” to anything that came my way, which led me to rediscover love — last night at dinner, he quietly excused himself, and I made up my mind to follow after him.
For sixty-seven years, caution was my default.
I’d never stepped foot outside my home country.
Never taken a vacation just for my own sake.
Never said yes unless completely sure.
After my husband died, my world constricted even more.
One day, my daughter confronted me:
“Mom… when was the last time you did something purely because it made you happy?”
I was silent.
So I reserved my flight to Malta.
Before boarding, I gave myself one condition:
For one week…
I would say YES to each opportunity.
Yes to new dishes.
Yes to boat rides.
Yes to chance meetings.
Yes to living fully.
On day two, meandering Valletta with an upside-down map, I literally bumped into a man who chuckled and asked:
“First time in Malta?”
David was his name.
Seventy, widowed, and unintentionally amusing.
By dusk, we were sharing coffee.
Afterward, breakfast the next day.
Then, a Gozo ferry ride.
For the first time in years, the ache of loneliness faded away.
He made everyday occurrences feel profound.
One night, while by the sea, he turned and said:
“I’m really glad you said YES.”
I grinned.
“So am I.”
At week’s end, I couldn’t imagine leaving Malta and not having him.
On my last night, David took me to a cozy harborfront restaurant.
“I have ONE last SURPRISE,” he announced.
Upon entering, the waiter greeted him by name.
“So nice to see you again, Mr. Bennett.”
AGAIN?
David insisted this was his first visit.
Before I asked, he excused himself for a phone CALL.
“Just a minute.”
Ten minutes passed, then fifteen.
I went searching for him.
Passing the kitchen, I caught his voice in a private courtyard.
He wasn’t by himself.
I stepped closer and listened. ⬇️