He lived a world away, but his words spoke in a familiar voice. Our experiences ... so different. Our sorrow ... so similar. When Rod McKuen poured his heart onto paper, it resonated with many a sad soul and reflected the shadow of love ... found and then lost.

At the time his book, Stanyan Street & Other Sorrows, was published, he was a best-selling author, composer and lyricist. I suppose I knew all that, but back then, I measured Rod McKuen's achievement by how closely his handiwork paralleled my own emotions.

And through various turns and stages in my life, it's like he held a mirror against my ever-changing face. It's as though my heart and his words became old friends. Wherever love found me, so did his rhyme. I knew the feeling of love. He understood it.

Over the years, my world expanded and grew to include frequent trips to San Francisco. It had been a long time since the days of Rod McKuen. Riding the bridge across the bay, I was, once again, engulfed by his verse. What was a simple ride for some, became a life journey for me, and I was struck by the image of that hometown girl whose world had seemed so small.

On my 50th birthday, we (my husband and I) crossed the bridge into Sausalito. The wonder of the Golden Gate behind us and the lure of my childhood dream ahead, we skirted through the narrow streets.

We joined in the festivities of a local get-together where we tasted chili, critiqued art and walked through the streets hand-in-hand. My husband found a shaded bench where he treated me to hot dogs and my favorite soft drink. Only he would know how perfectly that suited this day.

And while I sat in the safe harbor of his company and watched the boats sail gently over the bay waters, I knew that finally I, too, had come to understand love.