Through the Eyes of Time

The TV blared from the living room, as three teenagers munched on the snacks from the couch. The flickering display showed three women in fun conversation with each other on what looked like a terrace outside their apartment. I recognized the scene from my favourite sitcom F.R.I.E.N.D.S, and even distinctly remembered the episode from season 1, “The One with George Stephanopoulos”. The kids were watching the series because of my recommendation- they wanted to know what their grandma watched back in her day. Asking their grandpa meant getting recommendations from Technical or Science Fiction or Thriller or some serious things, and they were just looking for something casual.

But I loved that about my husband of 50 years, he brought a sense of reality in my world of whimsies. I would trot about happily, living in my fairytale, but at the end of the day, he taught me accountability, responsibility and how to face the harsh truths and come above them. Even though we’d been married for 50 years, we’d been together since we were 22. We both met at a time where the last thing we were looking for, was love. But it happened, and ever since, we’ve been inseparable.

The eldest of our grandchildren, Trevor, called out from the couch “Grandma, this feels like such a timeless series, you have good taste.” I smiled at him and walked over rather gingerly, my bones are not what they used to be. I patted him on the head and said “I’ve been telling the same to your Grandpa for over 50 years now, he still hasn’t watched it with me, such a shame.” At that, the other two, Anne and Chris turned around. “It just isn’t his thing, he prefers serious genres with an element of truth than comedies where the invisible audience is laughing every 2 minutes, I can’t really blame him for that”, I justified. They nodded in understanding.

“Grandma come here, sit over here”, Anne walked over to lead me to the couch beside her. She held my hands and asked with her eyes sparkling, “What’s the best memory you have with Grandpa?” I looked over their faces, they were looking at me expectantly for an anecdote and if one of the primary duties of being a Grandparent is telling your Grandkids stories, I felt obligated to fulfill that.

“Alright”, I said, as the kids shuffled closer to me. “It was a sunday afternoon, we had just cooked and inhaled a whole pot of pasta. We were both sleepy from the heavy lunch and we felt like sloths trying to have a conversation.” The three laughed at that. “We lived by the coast during those times, it’d had been just a few weeks since we moved. And we hadn’t gotten the chance to explore the town yet. The furniture were all set, electricity and plumbing all taken care of, there were no more excuses that kept us back from exploring in the name of ‘settling down first’. Now your Grandpa had never been to the beach, like ever-”

“WHAT?”, exclamations of surprise ensued.

“Well, he always lived in the mainland and never went out of the city much”, I explained. “And I wanted to be the one to take him to the beach for the first time ever, and I knew there was one about 5 miles from our house. I got immediately got all excited and practically jumped on him begging him to go. He agreed, and we were on our way over. I kept looking at him the whole way over because I wanted to capture the exact moment his eyes met the waters. It was worth it. I still remember the way his eyes shined when he saw the water meeting the sand in varying lengths of waves. He was mesmerized. We took a spot, spread our mat, kept our things on it and I took his hand and started running towards the waters. He followed, unsure of the water but I reassured him that I was there, and he’d be safe with me. That day, I taught him how to stand your guard against the crashing waves, to go out a little further. We flew kites that we bought from sellers at the beach, we ate some good seafood whose taste I still remember to this day, we stayed at the beach for hours, until after the darkness set in after sunset and the beach got progressively emptier. We sat there, staring at the beach, holding hands, in silence. I wanted that moment to last forever.”, I dabbed at my teary eyes, while the kids hugged me. “That’s really beautiful Grandma”, said Chris.

“Yes it is”, a voice called from behind, It was the love of my life, my husband. He stood there, smiling at me, the same smile he has given me ever since I met him. Today he’s a portrait of old age, he has wrinkles and droopy eyes and white hair.

He came over and sat beside me, and took my hands, “I love you, and I’m glad we could immortalise that memory forever by staying with each other through everything”, He said, kissing my forehead. Long Awws surrounded us and I counted myself really lucky to be surrounded by the product of our love.

“I love you too”, And I looked at his eyes, like I used to when we were younger, he looked back into my eyes with the same, unwavering intensity and despite his current physical form, I could only see the boy with sharp eyes, a heart-shaped smile and a soft straight hair. Whose strong arms still feel like home to you more so than any structure you may have inhabited. His eyes were the same, both physically and lovingly.