He was slightly bent over. She stood a little straighter. Her hair was thin and his was gone…mostly. They held hands and measured their steps as they walked by the park benches, and finally sat to rest.
Lovely young things with fake breasts bounced by them. Tall tan ladies with elegant limbs did their pre-run stretches in front of the couple… but he didn’t notice. He never took his eyes off his wife.
I was close enough to see that the simple gold band on his left ring finger was dull and dented and quite worn. Much like his body. Her ring reflected the same span of decades.
I can only imagine the piles of manure they had walked through together. They probably had some high times, and low valleys. But here they are in the December of their lives, and they are together.
He wasn’t letting go of her hand. They stared at the ocean, and from time to time would turn their faces toward each other, and speak short sentences. There must have been wonderful words at one point, as he released her hand – and put his arm around her. She leaned her soft barely-there gray curls against his shoulder, apparently still strong enough for her, and they remained there for over an hour. I left before they did.
Love like the ocean, seasoned by storms. The edges of the sea were rough today. The middle seemed calm. I couldn’t see the horizon well. It was wrapped with fog…or maybe my vision was blurred..