One contained dark bread.
The other contained fresh white bread.
He placed both in front of me and smiled.
“This time, you choose, sweetheart.”
I laughed.
I took a small piece of white bread, in keeping with the eating plan my doctor had recommended.
Then I gave half of it to my husband.
“It tastes better when we make the choice together.”
George kissed my hand.
And at that moment, I understood something important.
My husband wasn’t a perfect man.
He had made a serious mistake by hiding his fears and the doctor’s concerns from me for years.
But when the truth finally came out, he didn’t try to justify his behavior or force me to remain silent.
He learned to listen to me.
And I learned that even after fifty-four years of marriage, two people can still learn to trust each other again.
Today, I am seventy-six years old.
