Sixty Years

They were celebrating sixty years of marriage that day in the park, complete with cake and ice cream and great-grandchildren.  The sunbeams filtered onto the partygoers, spotted and speckled, light and shadow.

They smiled at each other, over the heads of their family members, gaze meeting in the middle, softening their worn faces and crinkling the corners of their eyes. And he walked over to her, cane supporting his slow movements.

His hand was spotted with age. Hers were bent and twisted with arthritis. But they clasped them together. And they were young newlyweds again. And love made them beautiful.