"Marry me," he said as they walked one day along the river. She had sunlight like fireflies in her hair, and cheeks as pink as autumn apples. She stopped and stared, periwinkle eyes slowling blinking. And he waited, breathless, until she made him happier than he'd ever been. He clasped her to him and thought how his life was now perfect.
"It's time," she said, as her swollen belly shifted with the pain of a new life trying to enter the world. He thrilled and feared as he watched his love toiling, held her hand as she struggled, and stroked her head as she wept into arms filled with their son.
"I am at peace," he thought, as his wife worked heavenly scented magic in the kitchen and the children romped at his feet in the perfectly scoured little house. "It cannot get better than this."
And then one day after they had been married for so long he could count the years of joy and tears in the crinkles around her eyes, he stood behind her where she washed dishes at the sink, regarded her, wrapped his arms around her, and murmured into her hair: "You should rethink the leggings. It's like watching Rat-Terriers wrestle when you walk."
She hit him with the panini press.
*sigh* I know. It makes me cry too.