“Charles, we’ll celebrate my eighty years in grand manner. That’s also our Golden Anniversary. You, my gold.” She promises herself.
“Charles, aren’t you tired?” my brother asks.
“Yes, that’s why I sleep every night.”
“It must be difficult for you.”
“In what ways difficult?” He has no answer.
One morning, for the first time in years, she smiles, singing softy, “Happy birthday Charles. I love you.”
She remembers me and that is all that matters.