If you could take a photograph of what a promise looks like, I think this would be it.
When someone says to me, "You promise"? I smile and see sunlight streaming through a stained-glass window, bright with all that the potential that it holds.
Thirty five years ago, my parents said their vows and joined hands as husband and wife.
Through so much; through good times and bad, through sickness and health and births of children and deaths of loved ones and schedules that left mere minutes to see one another, still, they remained true.
Having failed in love, multiple times, I like to think that they are an exception, that their relationship didn't have to withstand the seas that mine did, but in reality, I'm sure it did. I'm sure it withstood far more than I could dream.
I'm sure there were days my mom just wanted to run free and not have five children in tow; wanted to have some part of herself that wasn't bound to so much, have some part of her life that was just hers.
I'm sure there were nights my dad wanted to play sports instead of work to provide for us or stay out after the rare golf game and follow where the moon led, recapture his youth, but they always came home instead, the promise they made more important than the whims of the moment.
In order to stay together, they stayed together: