55 Years And Counting

16 Jul

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When my grandma was 16 years old, she moved next door to an angry, rebel-without-a-cause type named Allen Denning. He had big brown eyes and the first time she saw him smile, that was it. She was a goner.

My grandma was a tall, quiet, girl next-door type from the tiniest of towns. She had never met anyone like this big city bad boy and even though she moved again three months later, she never quite could get him out of her head.

When I asked her about falling in love she said, “No one ever compared to him. My heart was always his. Is that romantic enough? It’s true.”

Yes, that’s romantic enough, grandma.

Last month this boy and girl next door celebrated 55 years of marriage.

My grandpa still believes himself to be an angry, rebel without a cause, but half a century with my grandma has shown him to really be an old softie.

My grandma is still tall, gentle and girl-nextdoory. Thankfully she never lost that impulsive romantic streak that she had at 18, eloping with her first love.

Last month, as these two cut their first wedding cake, my grandma looked around at her big, happy, buzzing family and said, “I wish we could have had a glimpse of this. I wish we could have seen where this would all lead, 55 years ago.”

Isn’t love everything?

Happy Anniversary, Grandma and Grandpa.

I couldn’t write a cuter love story if I tried my whole life.

The boy and girl next door thing is just the prologue.

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One Response to “55 Years And Counting”

  1. Linnea Farnsworth July 17, 2013 at 5:44 am #

    Love everything about this.

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