I booked an elegant banquet room at a restaurant overlooking a landscaped garden. I invited our children, relatives, old friends, and several of Daniel’s colleagues.
I even arranged for a photographer to capture the evening.
For weeks, I planned every detail.
I selected a deep burgundy dress, bought a pair of elegant shoes, and had my hair styled. I wanted to look beautiful—not because I needed to compete with younger women, but because I wanted to celebrate the woman I had become.
One evening, while I stood in front of the mirror, Daniel walked into our bedroom.
He stopped behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders.
“Forty years,” he said with a smile. “Can you believe it?”
I met his eyes in the mirror.
“Sometimes I wonder how we survived each other.”
He laughed.
“Speak for yourself. I’ve been an excellent husband.”
I turned around and playfully tapped his chest.
