He leaned over to her, lightly tapping her on the hand. “Hey, want to go fishing?” His voice was a little raspy with age. His eyes still twinkled with love.
Her hands were wrinkled and covered in veins, but he still loved her hands. She leaned her head over to his shoulder. Softly, in her own shaky voice, she said yes with a bright smile. She loved fishing with him. It was time for the two of them to be together, alone… No kids or grandkids or neighbors dropping by unannounced.
She headed into the kitchen and packed up some ham and cheese sandwiches for them, a couple cokes, and some chips in a little cooler. He pecked her on the cheek as he headed to the back porch to pull together the fishing gear. She smiled and watched him disappear through the door, then opened the cabinet door. She pulled out two oatmeal cream pies and slipped them into the cooler.
He walked back in from the porch. He carried two poles, two collapsible chairs, and a tackle box. Atop his already capped head sat her floppy hat.
She turned and looked at him. “Ain’t you a sight!” She giggled as she pecked him on the lips. She picked her hat up off his head and set it down on the counter. “Ready to go?”
He winked at her as he headed out the door. She followed behind, locking up. They loaded up his little white Chevette, then climbed inside.
They drove off across the mountain to his favorite fishing hole. It was a wide spot in a cool mountain stream off a back country dirt road. Oaks and poplar lined the stream which curved across the landscape and small wildflowers dotted the grass where they parked the car.
He picked it because she thought it was pretty; not because of the fish. They set up their spot and cast their lines. It was a beautiful afternoon with blue skies and white puffy clouds.
She looked up and named the shapes she found in the sky. He loved her imagination, and took her by her free hand, just to hold it for a bit.
She looked over at him. They had lived a full life together, and she couldn’t imagine life any other way. It wasn’t always an easy life, but it was a good life. Nine children, fifteen grandchildren, and lots of family always surrounded them. But afternoons like this are what she really treasured.
It didn’t matter how many trout they caught, but they always came home with a few. It was dinner for Sunday after all! What really mattered was the time they spent together, loving each other for just being.
Inspired by my grandparents; great role models for how to give, forgive, and build love. We should all be so lucky!