25 years

We were in church today, and before worship started, my mom took out her tube of hand cream. (Air-con dehydrates, okay?) As she twisted off the cap, it slipped through her fingers, dropped to the floor, and rolled a couple of rows down the pews.

"What'd you drop?" my dad whispered.

"The cover for my hand cream," my mom whispered back. "I think it rolled to the front row."

My dad got up and made his way amidst the congregation, and searched for it a bit, before he found it, picked it up, and returned to where we were, handing the cover to my mom.

I don't know why this gesture touched me so much. My heart was so warmed by this small act that probably didn't even mean anything to either of them. I just hope that when my husband and I have been married for 25 years, he will still pick up after me, with such a cheerful heart; and that I will remember to thank God for giving me him.