I stared into his deep blue-gray eyes, as his arms wrapped around my waist. A smile faintly littered his lips, probably mirroring my own. I turned away from his stare, to stare at the scene before me. I leaned against his hard, muscular chest, grinning inwardly knowing that not many girls got as lucky as I was.

There was a gust of wind, and I shivered slightly. His arms wrapped tighter around me, his muscles evident in the hold. I turned to look at his boyish looking face once more. I could never get enough of him, and it was very evident.

He had boyish good looks. While he was not skinny he was not fat either. He had a perfect muscular build, from the amount of practice he did in football, basketball, and track. He stood at five feet nine inches, towering my own five feet five inches.

He had dark brown nearly black hair that was cut in a short spiked. He was about as white as I was, though he didn’t pink like I did. His eyes were the window to his heart; the blue-gray showed every emotion he was feeling even if he didn’t show it in any other way.

His ears were small, as was his nose, but it seemed to fit his face. I brought up my right hand and cupped his left cheek with it. I rubbed my thumb across his cheek, his eyes closing in contempt. I really was lucky to have someone that was as wonderful as he was.

A loud bang sound came from behind us, making both of us jump. I laughed slightly before turning around again, to see the action going on. I looked at the runner’s many of whom I did not know.

There were a few though, like Lee Brooks, Brett Toms, and Chris Horton that I knew. I smiled as I saw Brett fall into second. I let out a cheer of encouragement, as he reached the halfway point of his run.

He didn’t look much like his siblings, especially the one that was holding me in his arms. He was extremely skinny, though he had a boyish face, it leaned more toward an elongated face rather than the heart-shaped faces of two of his older siblings.

As he began to pass us, on the last stretch of the 400 meter dash, I could hear the man holding me, yell from happiness. I let out a sigh of contentment, as I felt the vibrations of his voice, radiate through his chest, knowing how proud he was of his little brother.

My own sibling was never that kind or that dear to me. I was never given cheers of encouragement, nor was I given even a small smile at the end of the race. It made me happy to know that the man I was in love with, was a caring and loving person, especially to his siblings.

There was a droplet of water on my cheek, and at first I thought it might be sprinkling, but as I looked above, there were no other raindrops. I looked down, and realized that there were tears gathered in the bottom of my eye. I realized then that it was a tear that had fallen.

It was at that time that I fully realized and understood the raging feeling going on in my inner core. The way my heart would beat hard, the way I would instantly be filled with happiness just by a glimpse of his face. I realized that my heart and my soul were with him at that moment.

I was in love with him; I was completely and truly, head-over-heels in love with him. For once in my life I was in love, and not scared to be. I turned around quickly in his arms and captured his lips with mine, not even caring that we were out in the open in a public area.

As I sit here writing this, I can’t help but think of all the good times we had together. Like the day I asked him to go to my senior prom, the day he asked me out, our first kiss. Like the night he proposed, our wedding and the wonderful honeymoon afterwards.

The birth of our two gorgeous twin boys, and the adoption of our three other sons, were the big turning points in our lives. I didn’t know back then, that I would still be in love with him after so long.

I was ninety when he died. I remember his death specifically, because it was the day after our sixty-fifth anniversary. He was eighty-eight and the heart attack was so sudden.

I smile sadly at the grave before me, even at ninety-nine years old, the day before I turned one-hundred, I cannot help but think about him. Though we both grayed and became old, our love stayed.

When I came back to the house we had lived in since our marriage, the place our children grew up in, I became happy again. I glimpsed at the pictures on the mantle of our fireplace. There were two that caught my eye, one of our wedding day, and one of the day I fell in love with him.

There was a snap of light, and we pulled apart to see his mother standing there laughing. A blush littered my face, but at the same time I didn’t care. His mother walked away leaving us in peace.

“I love you,” I whispered to him, putting my whole heart and soul behind those words. I loved him, and I wanted him to know it.

“I love you too,” he had replied.

I know now that I can die happily, knowing that I had love in my life, that would be there even in death. All I can think about as I slip towards the darkness is seeing those blue-gray eyes once again.

“I love you,” I whisper as the darkness is almost completely surrounded me. As I finally ceded to the darkness, I heard the faint whisper of, “I love you too.”