"Love is not for cowards."
Rose Shapiro whispered the words with conviction as she sewed another row of sequins onto the new ivory silk jacket she'd wear the following evening. Ivory silk. Appropriate for celebrating a sixtieth wedding anniversary, and so different from the plain navy suit she'd worn to the wedding. She closed her eyes, shutting out that memory, shutting out the pain and confusion that accompanied her second marriage. Her marriage to Charlie.
Love is not for cowards. She understood that now, but she hadn't in the beginning when Joe had been the love of her life, and cotton candy dreams beckoned them as they said their I do's. She'd grown up a lot since then.
She sighed and opened her eyes, once again stitching carefully. Not many couples reached sixty years of marriage. But she and Charlie had. She knotted and cut her thread, then viewed her efforts with a critical eye.
Cataract surgery last year had turned out to be a boon to her sewing skills, ...
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