Thirty-eight years ago, it had been a time of firsts: first breathtaking kiss, first shy birthday gifts, first ruthless Scrabble match, first sofa purchase, first bewildering fight.
Finally, a glorious first anniversary, and a proposal out of which came the marriage of two souls committed to a long, shared walk towards sunset.
Then, a month ago, sunset arrived unexpectedly with a numbing, wintry bite.
Now it would be another year of firsts: the first uncomforted keening, the first night in unshared sheets, the first anniversary marked alone.
Lying in bed, she told him, “you always liked to win, didn’t you?”
Finally, a glorious first anniversary, and a proposal out of which came the marriage of two souls committed to a long, shared walk towards sunset.
Then, a month ago, sunset arrived unexpectedly with a numbing, wintry bite.
Now it would be another year of firsts: the first uncomforted keening, the first night in unshared sheets, the first anniversary marked alone.
Lying in bed, she told him, “you always liked to win, didn’t you?”
