It's a simple question. A question of observation coupled with concern. The look on her face, her brow slightly furrowed, the edges of her mouth slightly, almost imperceptibly, turned down.
A simple question that frequently has no easy answer. That is, if you're being honest.
"Are you happy?" The question hung in her eyes as they searched mine for an answer.
The long years, children, our own issues, and more, have taken their toll. On both of us.
Behind the grey hair, the lines born of concern, fear, and fights. Behind those knowing eyes and the painful experiences through which they'd earned their degrees of skepticism I see young love.
Young love, the kind that is sought and found in the eager, bright eyes of my young bride.
"Yes," I reply. Taking her hand and pressing my cheek into her palm, "Yes, I am happy."
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