Starting Over at Sixty Years Old

On the day of my wedding anniversary, I was cleaning my house when I found a picture album.

As it turned out, my husband had been religiously taking pictures with the girl of his dreams every year on this precise date.

He had been doing it since he was forty years old and he was now sixty years old. His hair had progressed from a jet black to a faded white and yet, he kept up the tradition.

There was a written message in his handwriting at the back of the picture that read, “Eternal Love.”