To Have and To Hold

“To have and to hold”, they said.

All these years later, I watch them.

They rearrange the livingroom furniture. Why have they always had the couch facing the TV, when it could have been the love seat instead, they ask? Now every movie night is a cuddle session, encouraged by arm rests hemming them in on each side.

They get home from work. The moment they set eyes on each other, one moves to kiss the other - just a peck, nothing gratuitous, but it’s ritual, established, a reminder of deeper affection before discussing the past day.

They sit on the porch with their coffees every Saturday morning. Half an hour, an hour. It’s just them, shoulders brushing, basking in the early silence of the day before the earth wakes, sipping quietly, the occasional murmured remark exchanged. No pressure for conversation. Just pleasure of companionship.

All these years later, they still have and hold each other.