4:50

Every day at ten minutes before 5:00, I see a touching sight out my front windows. Leah and I are usually having a little down time as I try to get her to rest and – maybe – take a little nap, and as we watch whatever we happen to be watching that day, I see it through the windows by the TV.

There is an older couple – I’d say at least in their 80s – who take a walk together every afternoon. Recently, they’ve been bundled up with hats and scarves and heavy coats, taking their stroll to the end of the street and back. Some days they are holding hands, and some days they have their arms around each other. Some days they walk side by side with their hands tucked into their pockets.

As I watch them pass, I imagine their story. I imagine that their history together is a long one, full of all of the good times and bad referenced in their wedding vows long ago. I imagine that one, or both, of them have seen many days of health and, too, many days of sickness. They have likely seen days that reminded them why they chose to marry in the first place, and have had long days when the person next to them seemed little more than a stranger. I imagine days that were poorer than others, and days full of so many blessings that they believed that none on earth could be richer. Through it all, though, I know that they have walked on together.

I like to imagine what they are talking about. Their children, perhaps, and the latest news that came in today’s phone call. Maybe there are grandchildren to chat about, and maybe there is one or more on the way. Maybe they wish with all of their hearts that they could be closer to the ones they love. I imagine that they discuss doctors’ visits, and their diagnoses and prognoses, and maybe about their doctors’ orders that they continue their daily walks. I imagine that they talk about what to have for supper or, better still, what they have already had for supper. They probably talk about the changes they’ve seen in the world since they walked down the aisle. SUVs and iPhones and the internet…. I imagine that they walk more slowly than they have in years past, but still, they walk on together. Joints aching and tiring more easily, they walk on. They walk on together.

I like to think that when they get home, nothing changes about the closeness I witness on their walks. I imagine that they nestle in together on their couch to take one more call from a loved one. Good news, hopefully, and maybe an “I love you” from one of the grandchildren. They cuddle on the couch or, perhaps more likely, settle into their own broken-in chairs on opposite sides of the room. They watch the same shows they always watch, because like so many other aspects of their lives together, they figure there’s no reason to fix what isn’t broken. There’s no reason to change something that’s working perfectly as it is.

It’s a beautiful image to me of what life and love can become. It’s one that I hope for in my own marriage, and one that I’ve been fortunate enough to see in the marriages of some I love.

As one couple walks here, another such couple many miles away celebrates their wedding anniversary today. Today, they celebrate 60 years of walking along together. Those of us living in the shadow of their love have been forever changed by what we see in them.

Happy Anniversary, Granny and Grandpa. We love you both so much.