His Song
He looks at her, his eyes wide, then turns back to the band on stage.
He looks again—this time, a smile begins to form. His eyes dance, his body sways, just enough to notice. The music is crisp, the sound mesmerizing. His smile deepens, his movements grow bolder.
He looks at her again, his grin now full, his body rocking steadily to the music, his hands tapping in time with the rhythm. Then, back to the band. Now he’s singing, clapping, accentuating every word, his whole body moving. He is dancing in his seat. His excitement builds until he begins to rise.
She places a gentle hand on his forearm. A small pause, a slight deflation, and he settles back into his chair.
The music carries on. So does he. The singing, the movement, the joy—undimmed. He knows every word.
She watches him, her eyes full of love—the careful gaze of a mother, yet tinged with the longing of a lover she once knew. She wasn’t prepared for this role reversal. Through sickness and health—were vows spoken in her youth, never quite imagining old age.
Time rewinds. The years collapse in her gaze, and for a moment, their intimacy is almost too sacred to witness—woven into every glance, every silent exchange
He looks at her once more, searching for approval. His eyes plead: Look at me. I know every word.
She smiles with unconditional love. Her eyes glisten, just slightly, as she holds the gaze of the man who has become her husband in a different way than she’s known before.
The song fades. The singing quiets. The seat-dancing stills.
He turns to her again—his eyes blank now, his voice silent as he returns to the unfamiliar. Another look, this time for assurance.
She touches his forearm once more, nods, lowers her gaze. A soft smile. She is the anchor he needs.
He settles back in his chair, quietly, no movement – he’s waiting for the next memory to find him.
