Nana and Papa celebrated their forty-fifth anniversary weekend before last. We threw a little family party for them, gave them a present or two, and ponder the implications of being married that long.
Nana can finish all of Papa’s stories for him, and she can provide commentary on how they have evolved over the years. “How long exactly was it that you were unconscious after the truck hit you?” Papa knows very well how Nana worries about him and could probably even predict what Nana will say about a given, potentially dangerous situation — not that he’s ever done that. They can both anticipate each other’s thoughts and finish sentences for each other.
And they both love L hugely. She comes in with a stepping stone she made for them — with a little help from K — and presents it with commentary: “I made this for you!”
In five years, half a century. “It makes me feel old,” I can hear Nana say. “You should say, ‘It makes me feel noble,'” I’ll tell her.
