“You can talk to Hollace,” the retirement center staff told me today. So I settled onto a couch next to an older man in a wheelchair. He reached for my hand so I gladly gave it to him. We began to chat a bit. He asked me how my day was going and commented on my cold hands. Even though he too was cold he wasn’t letting go and I knew that. I didn’t mind and just prayed for peace to be released through the grip. A few minutes later a petite woman rounded the couch and popped down next to me. He told me it was his sister. She promptly corrected that she was indeed his wife. His wife of 65 years, actually. She told me about how they met so many years ago, working at movie theaters in Beverly Hills. Posh, I know. She told me of their house in the snowy mountains of Oregon, and about the difficult transition to their tiny room at the retirement center. They moved there when his alzeihmers became more than she could handle alone. Although she is quite spry, she wants to be with him. I was amazed at her gentle responses and care for her husband. We ended our time with a trip to the front windows to look out through the rainy afternoon at the turning leaves outside. Hollace reached for the door, trying to escape more than just the building I am sure. We talked him into dinner instead, and that concluded my visit for today. In such a short time they taught me much, much about commitment, much about love, much about life. What a privilege. What a precious afternoon with this sweet couple. Life, every stage, it matters, really.