I remember a few months ago, I told my dad they were really cute in their routines. One particular one is that after a long day at work (they run a mom and pop corner store), he always offers her his arm as they walk to the car. He told me that he always does that because “what if she falls and hurts herself?” My mother is perfectly mobile but I thought it was so sweet that he’s so protective of her.

Also, every night when they come home, I hear them bickering from the stairs but it’s really cute old married couple banter. He’s always ragging on her for “being such an old country woman” but he never talks down to her or belittles her and she certainly has the wit and fire to counter him. I want a relationship like that one day.

Oddly enough, I’ve only ever seem them kiss on the lips ONE time in my entire life. I’ve never even seen them hug each other.

And if you need another story to make you feel good, here’s mine. It’s a little long, but I think it’ll cheer you up:

My step-grandmother, Dorothy, was a very unique woman. Very smart and very independent. She knew my step-grandfather, Cyril, while growing up, and they went their separate ways as teens. He went off to war (WWI) and she went to university to become a dietician. After graduating, she bought a car and drove to New York by herself to find work. After the war was over, Cyril was on his way back from Europe, and found out that Dorothy was in New York and so decided to meet up with her. She took one look at him and said (and I quote), “Cyril, you look like hell. Come marry me and I’ll take care of you.”

They married, travelled, had kids, and grew very, very old together. And they always had so much light in their eyes when they looked at each other. Many years later, their son, after a failed first marriage, met and married my mother. My mom and my stepdad look at each other with that same light in their eyes. As Cyril and Dorothy grew older, Cyril was no longer able to climb the stairs to get to their bedroom, so there was talk of putting a single bed down in the den for him. Dorothy put her foot down and said, “I’ve been sleeping next to this man for decades and I’m damn well not stopping now.” A double bed was put in the den. They died within two months of each other, at age 95.

I’m recently married, and always swore that I would find the man who looked at me the way that Cyril looked at Dorothy. The way that my stepdad looks at my mom. I did — I often catch my husband looking at me that way. And when I have kids, I’m going to teach them to accept no less in their own marriages.

Possibly my favorite was a couple who came in nearly every day. They were quite elderly. I’d have been surprised to learn that either was under eighty. But they came in every single day, got two cups of coffee, and shared one dessert between them. They always held hands. They always looked at one another with the sort of affection and understanding it’s impossible to feign.

This picture and this essay made me think of them again today. Now my heart feels full. It’s a wonderful feeling.

What’s more, I can’t wait for Mr. Twistie to get home.