Hubs and I spent the last week in Vermont and upstate New York with dear friends. A friends daughter was getting married and we were lucky enough to attend.
Situated in the Green Mountains lies the estate of Abraham Lincoln’s only child to live into adulthood; Robert Lincoln. The grounds are lovely; the peonies were just about to bloom and miles of green lush forest surrounded us.
The groom turned his back when the bridal procession started. As his bride approached, winding gracefully through the gardens, he turned and looked at her and started to cry.
And so I cried.
I love love. Love is pretty stinkin’ awesome.
Hubs was lookin’ mighty fine in his tux. I was all spanxed up. We snapped a photo in the peonies.
“We’re looking older,” he said.
Sigh. We are. He took my hand and his fingers traced the back; age spots, veins and fingers that slip so easily into his hand.
We aren’t so old. But we are old enough now to know that this time is fleeting. Views are to be taken in. Hands are to be held. Good friends inhaled. Moments sipped until the glass is dry and the mind is tipsy with happiness.
We went on to visit another dear couple in New York. They have lived a lot of life with us. After dinner we sipped whiskey next to the fire. I had a Great Dane balanced in my lap as I listened to the rain. His tail thumped my leg when I stopped petting his ears.
We talked about the wedding and how love changes as life happens.
And then our friends played us this song.
And I cried again- grateful cry about the irony of life, good sipping whiskey, a groom and his bride, a dog on your lap and a hubs whose hand slips around my fingers.
If we were vampires and death was a joke
We’d go out on the sidewalk and smoke
And laugh at all the lovers and their plans
I wouldn’t feel the need to hold your hand
Maybe time running out is a gift
I’ll work hard ’til the end of my shift
And give you every second I can find
And hope it isn’t me who’s left behind