For a few seconds, I simply stared at him.
Then I lightly slapped his shoulder.
“Robert, in fifty-two years, that is the most terrifying surprise you have ever given me.”
Everyone burst out laughing.
And I started crying.
Not because I was afraid anymore.
But because when I looked through the open front door, I saw a large family photograph already hanging on the living room wall.
Underneath it, our children had written:
“From now on, we’re not missing another holiday together.”
That evening, for the first time in years, all of us sat around the same dinner table without worrying about who had to catch a flight, who had to drive home, or how many months it would be before we saw one another again.
Later that night, Robert asked if I was still angry with him.
“Yes,” I said. “But I’ll get over it tomorrow.”
He laughed.
