Off in the distance, birds sang a melancholy song, blending with the soft melody of the wind-blown chimes. He closed his eyes and allowed the moment to drift him away as he leaned back on the gently swaying porch swing. His thoughts fluttered into the past, and he could feel her hand in his, holding it gingerly. He absent-mindedly rubbed his thumb across the top of her hand as the creaking swing continued its harmonic song.
He looked over at her, her young face smiling back at him, the curls of her auburn hair playing across her forehead. He used his free hand to move them out of her face. “You’re so beautiful, how do you stay so young?” She just smiled back at him and he could feel her cup his hand in hers.
The front door opened as his son walked out, looking over at him. “Dad, who are you talking too?”
“Oh, just having a moment with your mom.” He said, through a sad smile.