The caresses aren’t as soft: they come with a lifetime of callouses, but are most welcome. The lips are often drier than before; the jaw lines sterner, but more assured and certain.
The voices have lost some of the timbre of the younger days; the hearing not as crisp, but the music we make together is harmonious, figuratively and literally.
The backs are stiffer; the joints ache with the changes in weather. The vision is more out of focus – she needs things up close to read them and I need a longer arm.
The salt and pepper in my hair increases, while gray streaks begin to blend in around her temples. She thinks it’s handsome; I think she still glows.
It is fall of our lives. It is the fall and we know winter is approaching. We both will turn 60 at our next birthday.
But how can it be? The passion of our souls for each other remain vibrant. A touch, a caress, a kiss, all still needed as much today as it was when we were 20. An “I love you” from her still stirs my being as much as it did when she said those words to me so long ago. Her smile still melts me. Every. Single. Time.
When we stood at the altar at age 21, we had wide-eyed dreams and hopes of what life could be for us. Some dreams shattered and others became nightmares. Life comes and goes, as it must, with all the celebrations and disappointments that inevitably come. But, above all other things that this life would provide, the one dream I had was that we would grow old together.
And so, here we are at the precipice of that cliff, ready for what comes with the same wide-eyed hope as we did 38 years ago, as well as the same joy and passion, if not more.
I love this woman with every part of my being and I look forward to our 39th, 40th and beyond, as God allows.
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