Age old love

Love. Thats what it must be. He nags, calls her names, stares off into space, forgets everything, breaks dishes and is utterly helpless. He's pushing eighty and she's passing seventy. He's had a few heart attacks and with each one he changes, not for the better. He often doesn't speak and when he does its to snap a command, an angry retort or a cruel insult directed at her.

She smiles patiently. She picks up what he's knocked down. She apologizes to those whose feelings he's hurt. Sometimes at night she falls asleep remembering the smiles, the laughs. She remembers the flowers, the kisses, the adventures, the conversations, the trust, the kindness and most especially their love. She drifts to sleep late and he wakes her early with grumbled words, with aches, with pains. She meets his every need, his every demand with a smile. Her patience has no end.

She doesn't know when her day will come, she doesn't know when his day will come but when their day comes she knows it will all be worth it. Love. Its not the lust, its not immediate gratification. Their love is the kind of love that grows and matures. One of the greatest examples of love is the love shared between a husband and wife. Its the dedication when the going gets rough. Its staying together even when you can't stand each other. You remember that its worth it, that its worth working at.

With this love there's no guarantees except the guarantee of the love you will never stop giving, no matter what.