“Like what?”
“Peaceful.”
She was right.
With Lauren, I had always tried to look younger.
With Emily, I was simply George.
On my seventy-fifth birthday, we had a small family dinner.
After everyone left, Emily stayed behind.
I took her outside to the patio.
There was a small ring in my pocket.
I did not even get down on one knee. My knees had retired from that kind of heroism years ago.
I simply took her hand.
“Emily, I can’t promise you fifty years.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I know.”
“I can’t even promise twenty.”
She squeezed my hand.
“George, nobody can promise anyone tomorrow.”
I looked at her.
“Then whatever time we do have… will you spend it with me?”
She smiled through her tears.