the ritual

Every Sunday I meet my grandmother and her brothers and sisters for lunch. Aunt Yvonne and Uncle Roger are two of the most precious people I know. Roger is slow-moving and quiet with a little studder that has gotten progressively worse over the last 5 years. He always tells me that he loves me just the way I am. Yvonne is spunky, opinionated, and a lot of fun. She's had multiple knee replacement surgeries, and moves about as slowly as Roger does. They're a great match! This spring, I noticed a little ritual of theirs which I never took note of before, and now I look for it every Sunday.

Everytime they arrive in a restaurant, Roger slowly pulls Yvonne's chair out for her and holds her cane and purse while she carefully sits down. Roger's becoming more feeble, but he always tries to help Yvonne scoot her chair closer to the table. It's a team effort. When it's time to get up again, Roger rises from his seat and offers his hand to his wife as she struggles to get up. Yvonne has a hard time working those knees, and Roger does his best to provide her with a sturdy grip and any upward pull he can manage. When Yvonne at last makes it to her feet, she presses her lips to the back of his hand in a tender gesture of thanks. It's beautiful! Like wine, love gets better with age!