A woman who’d raised a daughter, weathered difficult years, laughed, worried, worked, and loved one man for more than half her life.
I looked like myself.
And that felt right.
“He’s going to cry,” Sophie whispered.
“He cries at dog food commercials.”
She laughed.
“Mom, that’s you.”
“Oh.”
We both began laughing.
Then crying.
The saleswoman quietly brought us tissues.
—
Mark continued working on his vows.
He’d originally written nine drafts.
Then eleven.
Then even more.
One evening, I asked why he kept changing them.
He looked at me.
“Sometimes I read what I wrote, and I can’t remember writing it.”
My chest tightened.
“But then I read it again, and I think, whoever wrote this must really love his wife.”
He gave a sad smile.
“And then I remember that man is me.”
I took his hand.
He continued.
“So I keep adding things. Every time I remember something important, I write it down.”
