Each year they welcome me back into their lives.
Each year I get to watch their son grow. And now two sons.
Each year I see them love each other, love their family. I get to be a first hand witness to the inner workings of their home. She cares. He protects. The boys grow up safe, cared for, loved.
Each year their story is written a little bit more and I get to step back in (maybe just for one evening) but each year I feel the depth of honor and joy of being the one to carefully stop time for them. Help them remember. Hold onto their moments.
Each year I think I can’t like them anymore…
But each year I find out I’m wrong again.
This year was no different.