Prayerful Wonder

I wonder what it’s like to be married for 64 years.  I wonder if when he looks over at her the wrinkles fade away and his mind’s eye sees a petite girl at the youthful age of nineteen standing at the altar on a Sunday morning after church.  If when she looks at him she sees, not the aging elder, but the young farmer, arms bronzed with sun and the strong works of his hands.   I wonder how the heart can hold so much history wrapped up in one single person.  I wonder what it’s like to have survived, lived, and delighted together for over half a century.  To be on the other side of the hill, looking back.  To have very little history that the other did not witness.  To have built a career, a family, a home; and in the end for it to come full circle back to the beginning, two people side by side.    For the ordinary bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich to become the extraordinary reminder of a honeymoon night together.  For lye soap’s reminder of sacrificial love as she washed the walls of an unfamiliar house far from home.  For a tender promise made on its doorstep to care for her the rest of her days.  To have kept that promise for over 64 years.  I wonder.  I wonder.  I prayerfully wonder...

{Written in celebration of my grandparents' 64th wedding anniversary}