This is not my typical kind of story, but if you’ve followed me long enough, you know I like to try new things.
I took Cecil’s wrinkled hand when he knelt in front of me, descending slowly onto arthritic knees. I saw the pain in his face and almost stopped him but I knew it was important to him.
I said yes, of course. When you date a septuagenarian, it’s for life, if only because there’s not much of it left.
For him, at least.
We honeymooned in Tahiti. I would have loved to go snorkeling together, but it wasn’t really an option, not after his bypass surgery three years before. So we spend a lot of time sitting on the beach, holding hands until he drifted off to sleep. It was nice; peaceful.
My best friend Cheryl visited me a week after we got back. We…
View original post 418 more words