This would be our life when we got old. We would get a simple house, one story, something away from the city. You'd likely be tired of being in such a populated place as I would too. Small community with the same neighbors we greeted every morning. Something comfortable with a nice cozy lawn and a decent backyard where we may sit out, now and then to take in the fruits of early labor.
When we got old, we would likely have two cats. One boy and one girl, we would love them to death because they would be the only thing we took care of besides each other years after our children have gone into the world. We would likely sit and reminisce, talking and recounting the stories of how we first met from our points of view, just to see if there are any discrepancies since the millions of times we’d heard it.
When we got old, on special days where we might've felt conceited with ourselves we would sit and watch one of the many movies you so passionately acted in. I would be simultaneously reading a novel I so carefully wrote imagining things I could've done differently despite you telling me the book was perfect as is.
When we got old, during the time before our slumber, you would lie in the bed while I sat up and read. Much like our personalities, my side of the room would be illuminated and yours would be dimmed with the only light pressing through being that of the moon. I read aloud with just enough volume to be considered soothing. Then when I realized you were already asleep, I would silently read ahead just out of curiosity and because I would have likely recognized my stutters in some sentences.
When we got old, I would read to you beautiful love stories. Ones that would give you vivid and sweet dreams, ones you wish you could experience yet again. Now and then, I might read you a horror story because they're your favorite. Despite my consistent protest that they’re the cause of nightmares. I’d secretly love when you would wake me up in the middle of the night and tell me all about your crazy dream.
When we got old, we would be there for another. Helping one another see yet another sunrise and another sunset. We would be proud of the lives we lived and wish we could experience it all over again. We would be grateful every day because we got to share the most beautiful and tragic moments together, knowing that every step of the way it was with each other.
If we got old, our house wouldn’t be so empty. I wouldn't have to read alone. I wouldn't have to worry so much about the what ifs. Maybe I'd have better dreams and fewer frights. If we got old, maybe I wouldn't have to wish that I'd never have to say I got old, and you did not.
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