Today marks my paternal grandparents' wedding anniversary. If they were alive, they would be celebrating; but now the date serves to mark a clear memory for me: what marriage is supposed to be.
My grandparents were not perfect people, but they were sincerely trying to be good: to one another, and to everyone else -- they were very well known and recognized for the generous hospitality through the years.
I remember times here and there when my grandfather would kinda punch me in the arm and ask me to "Look at that: the most beautiful woman in the world!" Since my grandmother's hearing wasn't the best (she would never ever have acknowledged that) I am more certain he was trying to impress me more than her. As I married, I'd argue with him over that point of who was the most beautiful woman in the world.
I cherish the memory of my grandparents because that's all I have now (except when I'm around Dad: he seems to conjure them in things he says and does).
They loved each other dearly, and I truly hope to be married to Cindy as long as they were married … and just as in love.
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