My Mom and Dad celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary this weekend. We had a party with lots of relatives and friends and eating and fun, and I have pictures to show you of all of that, but it is so very late at night (the usual story) and I have a full and early starting day tomorrow, so I just have a few pictures to show you. Old pictures. Fifty-year-old pictures in fact.
There they are, freshly minted newlyweds, on their way out of the church.
Ducking and shaking off the rice that the boys in the background are throwing at them. Those would be the youngest of my uncles, from both sides of the family, digging into a brown paper bag for another handful to throw at their big brother and his pretty new bride.
I've looked at all these pictures a hundred times in the past I'm sure, but there is something about scanning them in and looking at them a bit larger than usual and on a screen that makes me see all the little details. That all the ladies in the background are wearing hats. And in the foreground on the right the flower girl, my cousin in her sweet bonnet and glasses, peeks into the frame. And seeing how tall and slim my Dad is, and how very truly red his hair was, makes me see just how much my brother resembles him now. The redness of those roses I know, but I'd never noticed those little white flowers in there too. And how my Mom's profile as she looks back and smiles has not changed one little bit. What a gift old photos are. And what a gift my Mom and Dad's relationship continues to be. Congratulations you two. Thanks for getting married.
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