Their engagement was short. He asked for her hand in marriage as she mopped the kitchen floor. They said I do a week later.
They built a home and a business and made a life on a quiet road that overlooked water and boats. I came along and it seemed a perfect place to raise a family. But it wasn’t where we would stay. New Orleans to seminary, my dad, the straight A student, would become a pastor two years later.
He studied and prayed and fasted on Mondays. He led congregations well, but he led our home best. Devotions and basketball, long games of Monopoly and football plays, my mother and I could never outrun him.
She hummed in the kitchen while he read the paper. She fixed him tea and giggled at his silliness. She told him every sermon was better than the last.
It wasn’t perfect. She was feisty, more so than he probably realized, and he was headstrong. But their squabbles were often over as quick as they began. They kept their promise of never going to bed angry.
They laughed and danced throughout our home. I objected every time they kissed, rolling my eyes with disdain. What was wrong with them?
But I know now. And I should have known then; it was very obvious.
She loves him and he adores her.
Happy 35th anniversary mom and dad