Twenty-eight words

His steps were more like shuffles, his grip on the wheelchair handles firm. Slowly he pushed his lady of sixty-seven years down the walk of the senior facility. A blanket draped across her lap he would bend down and ask if she was warm enough? “I’m fine” she softly replied, “give me a smoke” “that’s what put you here” he mumbled as he fumbled for a smoke in his shirt pocket. He lit it and placed it in her frail hand. Now they looked like a steam locomotive as they rolled down the walk a steady plume of smoke trailing behind them. He stopped by the fountain she liked the sound of the water splashing. Sitting on a bench beside her he lit a smoke and spit pieces of tobacco which she didn’t like and never had. “disgusting” she said shaking her head from side to side. He didn’t notice, but yea he did.” I love you dolly” “I know you do” “now let’s go I’m getting cold” twenty-eight words spoken on a half hour walk. A lifetime of understanding. Lasting and true love, so rare, so precious.

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