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A Walk to Remember
Every evening they went for a walk down the country road on which they lived together for many years. It was the same route each evening, and they talked about their sons, about what fine young men they were becoming. It was a comforting routine.
She had been a teacher and he a preacher, but they had left those pursuits behind. He ventured into the field of healthcare. It was interesting and challenging work, always something more to learn. At times he felt he had learned more than he really wanted about some things.
Their walk turned onto another quiet road, past a cedar swamp, an old farm, an abandoned lumber mill. She was his constant companion, his reason for living, his one and only. He recalled the day they had met. It was at a veterinarian appointment for his new puppy. She was the receptionist and had helped him put the little dog on the scales to get his weight. One date led to a kiss, and they were married within a year. The first son was born a year after that. Then there was a miscarriage and a stillbirth before son number two came along. They talked of all these things as they walked together.
They weren’t old, though the reminiscing may make it seem they were. No, they were at the age when people begin looking ahead to being empty nesters, to regaining the freedom they had so willing left behind to have children. And so he would talk about the future.
They strolled into a park filled with aged trees. He lay on his back and looked into the heavens. After a while he began tossing aside small twigs or dead leaves he perchance saw lying around, and he picked any tiny weeds he found growing on her grave. He watered the flowers with a small jug he carried with him, but he also watered them with his own tears. Finally he whispered his eternal love for her and retraced their steps back home.