***
At home, the house was still and peaceful. Janet changed out of the dress, careful with each button. She met me in our bedroom, arms full of yarn and lace, and set it on the bed where a huge, pale box waited.
I unfolded a sheet of tissue, and together we began smoothing the dress, folding it gently.
“Looks like you started something after all.”
Janet ran her fingers over the hem, tracing the tiny stitched initials. “Did you ever think we’d get to 30 years?”
I shook my head. “Not a clue. But I’d do it all again. Every single thing.”
She looked at me, eyes shining. “This dress… It’s our whole life, Tom. Thank you for loving me this way.”
I kissed her forehead, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
“Thank you for letting me.”
Janet laid the dress gently into its box, her fingers lingering over the stitched initials in the hem.
“Thank you for loving me this way.”
Then she looked at me with tears in her eyes and smiled the same smile she’d given me thirty years ago.
“This is what forever looks like.”
I took her hand and kissed her knuckles.
After everything we’d survived, everything we’d built, I knew she was right.
Some people spend a lifetime searching for grand love. I realized I’d been holding mine all along.
“This is what forever looks like.”
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