Onto my screen pops a reminder to weigh myself. Not dieting, just tracking.
The date, Sunday, August 7th, draws my eye.
August 7th. My wedding anniversary.
I go to my wife. She’s preparing to take a path. “A man says, happy anniversary,” I say.
She looks at me. A grin spreads. “Oh, yeah.”
“We did have an anniversary breakfast after berry picking.”
She laughs. “Yeah, we knew what we were doing.”
So it continues today, as it started, forty-one years ago.
Michael Seidel, writer 
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