“till death do us part.”

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Fly on the Wall.”

If you could be a “fly on the wall” anywhere and at any time in history, where and when would you choose?

My parents’s wedding.

It was a really simple ceremony back in 1986–done in a minister’s office. Minimal guests. Short preaching. An intimate dinner–immediate family only.

I would like to see their faces, their nervousness. I would like to see my Mom, 29 years younger, unknowing of what the future holds for her. And my Dad about to become a husband, promising to love the woman beside her, the one he fought hard for against those holding him back.

I would like to see the beginning of their journey, their marriage. I know there were small moments in this wedding–a small smile on my Mom’s face, a tear wanting to fall of my Dad’s eyes, a firmer more certain hold in their hands–that defined and reassured them that this was it. This was really it.

29 years later, I bet they’ll say “This is really it.” And they will laugh at each other. Their comfort so familiar and so easy.

And they keep on going.

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