strings of gray
We put away our suit jackets and put the ties back on the hanger in the closet. He came to me silently and retrieved the cufflinks from my shirt.
I went to the bar and poured a scotch, dropping a couple of ice cubes. I left it on the small side table next to his chair in the living room.
I went back to the bedroom, put on my favorite sweats and a ratty t-shirt. Returning to the living room, I found him laid back in his chair. The strings of gray in his beard lit up in the sunlight striking his face from the window.
“What are you looking at?” he said, dismissively.
“My beautiful husband.”
“Oh good lord….. I may have been beautiful in 1993 but today I’m just a tired old mess.”
I walked over to him and knelt between his legs and he held me in for a hug. He reached down and tousled my hair.
Holding me in tighter, he whispered, “I know today wasn’t easy, lovey. It’ll be okay.”