Fifty Years, Today

         “Fifty years, today, love,” Heather whispered softly, taking Chad’s arm as they walked.  “Remember when we walked this path together for the first time as husband and wife?  You were so handsome in the cowboy shirt Mama made you.”  She sighed, remembering.

         “And you, in the white square dance dress she made— adorable.”  A sparkle of recollection gleamed in his eye as he kicked a pine cone from her way.

          “Sad, how rundown the shelter has become.” Heather eyed the carved graffiti and the trash littering the corners as Chad slid his arm around her back.  “It was always so lovely.” 

          “We danced on this patio,” his reminiscence continued.  “I can almost see your parents watching us.  Did I ever tell them how much their love and support meant to me?”

         She nodded in response.  “They knew, love, they knew,” she reassured. 

          “They were there even when my own family turned their backs.”  Chad looked into Heather’s eyes as the memories flooded back— both the good and the bad.  When he refused to drop everything in his life to follow their whims, stating his wife took precedence, they became enraged, bitter, and spiteful.

         As they reached the bench by the fireplace she tugged at his sleeve.  “Let’s sit a moment.”  She slipped out a small photo album and gently rested against his chest.

         Pictures of their reception, so bright with fall colors:  their friends and family, many long gone; sitting there on that bench by that fireplace on that day as the sun went down brought them all back, their voices echoing off the stone pillars.

         The last rays of sun bathed the pavilion in resplendent golden hues as the two, still in love after a lifetime together, relived their memories in private celebration of their wedding.

300 words.  Winner:  Daily Flash Fiction Contest, June 23, 2008.  "Write a story with a fireplace, a pine cone, and a photo album using 300 words or less."