August twentieth, two-thousand-sixteen. Blythe and Jason get married in a service that makes my eyes moist. The beginning of a lifetime together.
December, nineteen-eighty-five. A rerun of M*A*S*H was playing on the TV. Bonnie sat on the couch. I was doing some sort of exercise across the room, wearing shorts that would be way too short in 2016 (or for any year since then).
I stopped what I was doing, sat down next to Bonnie, and said, “So, you want to get married or what?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“I’d love to.”
“Really?”
“Yes”
“Great!”
(Hug. Kiss) Continue reading
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