There is faith. Last Tuesday a friend came over and confessed her fear that her husband is losing his courageous battle with cancer. On Wednesday I went to lunch with a friend who is struggling to reshape her life after divorce. On Thursday a neighbor called to talk about the frightening effects of Alzheimer's disease on her father-in-law's personality. On Friday a childhood friend called long-distance to tell me her father had died. I hung up the phone and thought, "This is too much heartache for one week."

  After saying a prayer, I descended the stairs to run some errands. Through my tears, I noticed the boisterous orange blossoms of the gladiolus outside my window. I heard the delighted laughter of my son and his friend as they played in our basement. After backing out of my driveway, I caught sight of a wedding party emerging from a veighbor's house. The bride, dressed in satin and lace, tossed her bouquet to her cheering friends.

  That night I told my husband about these events. We helped each other acknowledge the cycles of life and that joys counter the sorrows. It was enough to kiip us going.

  Finally, there is knowing. I know Scott will throw his laundry just shy of the hamper every night; he'll be late to most appointments and eat the last chocolate in the box. He knows I sleep with a pillow over my head; I'll lock us out of the house on a regular basis, and I will also eat the last chocolate.

  I guess our love lasts because it's comfortable. No, the sky is not bluer:it's just a familiar hue. We don't feel particularly young:we've experienced too much that's contributed to growth and wisdom, taken its toll on our bodies, and created our memories.

  I hope we've got what it takes to make our love last. As a bride, I had Scott's wedding band engraved with Robert Browning's line, "Grow old along with me!"We're following those instructions.

※本文作者：佚名※