I gaze into her eyes, soft and warm and full of love, despite their ice cold color. It’s true what they say about the eyes being the window to the soul. I feel somewhat in a daze, as I hear, from a voice somewhere to the right of me, “you may now kiss the bride,” and all i see is her face, her beautiful, smiling face, with shimmering streaks from rebellious tears that managed to escape her eyes and roll down her cheeks. All I feel is her lips on mine, The same lips that just muttered the words, “I do.” The same lips that I have and will gladly kiss for the rest of my life. My wife’s lips. My wife.

In that moment, when our lips touched, I saw us, sitting together on a worn out porch, old and wrinkly, holding hands. Hers small and delicate, mine somehow strong, though worn and broken. I saw her face, just as beautiful as she was on our wedding day. Today. With the wind ruffling the puffy white hair framing her face.

The kiss ends, and the room erupts with joyous noise. I feel as if my face would crack if I smiled any wider, and yet, it’s not enough. A lifetime of smiles could never express the happiness I feel at that moment. Her smile, her laugh. Nothing can compare. And I know for a fact, that through thick and thin, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, I will forever and always, love and adore her, and I would do anything in the world, just to see that smile.

* click *