Quilt night last night. Me in the corner, still working at my laptop instead of sewing. Deb in the corner, working on her quilt. Mom searching through everything, looking for the embroidery hoop that fits on her super-duper, extra-fancy embroidery machine.
From upstairs, Dad hears us talking about the hoop's mysterious disappearance and comes down to help in the search. He asks a few questions about when she last had it and searches logical spots. When he's ruled out all the logical spots, he moves to a general search-and-rescue mission through the large room.
After 15 minutes, Dad spies the hoop lying on a pile of work-in-progress. He grabs it, throws his arms in the air in a V for victory and shouts, "Got it! I'm still your white knight!"
Mom wraps her arms around him, kisses him on the mouth for 3 or 4 seconds, and says, "All my life, Sweetheart. All. My. Life."
The 12-inch difference in their heights is disappearing as Dad shrinks alarmingly, but like a bonsai, he seems to be conforming to a shape dictated from beyond. His now-stooped shoulders curve over Mom's head as though pruned to fit. They stand together for another 20 seconds, his still-black hair against her full silver, and then kiss again.
"My work here is done," Dad says as he starts back up the stairs.
"Thank you, Darling," Mom says as she fits the hoop on the machine.