“Hi baby!” Mom answered my phone call. I had called in honor of their special day, to make sure they were happy, to praise and cheer them, Mom and Dad. They had driven the faithful Suburban to Burt Brothers for a safety inspection and minor repairs. They had walked next door to Dairy Queen for burgers with bacon and for fries and for a chocolate Blizzard—“They were so good! But the walk about killed your dad,” Mom reported. “And the walk back about killed him again!” But it was a “lovely day,” a “perfect day,” she said, and she was very happy, I could tell. Approaching home near 10 p.m., I turned into Smith’s grocery store and selected a small bouquet of flowers of vibrant colors. Steven had sent a thoughtful happy card. Barbara had brought a lavender orchid. Others had called and texted and Facetimed. Entering the house with my inexpensive bouquet, I cheered, “Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad!” Happy 60th Wedding Anniversary. Sixty years of marriage. As I snipped off several inches of stems and slid the flowers into a clear glass vase, I heard Dad say from his recliner to Mom in her recliner, “I love you, Lucille. You are so wonderful.”
Pictured above: my real life Mom and Dad. Happy 60th!