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If I Should Grow Old With You, My Dear...
If I should grow old with you, my dear…
Every Saturday morning will stink of burnt chocolate chip pancakes, and you’ll wake to the sound of loud cursing and the feeling that we’ll need to buy new pans because the chocolate destroyed the ones we’ll have.
Every afternoon we’ll walk Astaroth (that’s our dog) at the local park next to our lovely suburban home. We’ll hold hands and smile at passersby and maybe even talk to some of them.
Wednesday evenings are reserved for Movie Night; each month reserved for a different movie genre. April is always filled with snide comments, because although I know you hate action movies, I love your refusal to suspend your disbelief.
Every other year, we’ll vacation somewhere random. A spin of the globe and a stop with the finger. Most of our trips will probably be spent at sea, so I hope you like boating.
I could go on and on and on and on, but there would be no point.
You asked me if I’ve ever thought of our future.
And I’ve thought of it way more often than I probably should.
But if I should grow old with you, my dear…
I suppose you’ll have to wait and see.