Starting Over at Sixty Years Old
On the day of my wedding anniversary, I was cleaning my house when I found a picture album.
As it turned out, my husband had been religiously taking pictures with the girl of his dreams every year on this precise date.
He had been doing it since he was forty years old and he was now sixty years old. His hair had progressed from a jet black to a faded white and yet, he kept up the tradition.
There was a written message in his handwriting at the back of the picture that read, โEternal Love.โ
Since he doesn't love me, I will no longer bother washing his clothes and cooking for him. I will no longer care for his children and grandchildren.
I may have foolishly wasted half of my life, but it was not too late to make a change.
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