August 22, 2008
My grandmother gives me a book on decorative writing. As she does so, she slyly asks my grandfather if he knows who gave it to her. He guesses: “It’s X! I’ve seen him looking at you in church!” She shakes her head, smiling. “Then it’s Y. He’s always trying to walk out with you at bridge club.” No again. My grandfather wracks his brain for possible admirers, but he couldn’t guess, and she just smiles mysteriously. I think how wonderful it is to still be jealous, still playful, after being married half a century. They never stopped being in love.