She is ranting and it is beautiful. I'm sure I should be listening, but the fire in her eyes and passion in her voice make it impossible to process what she is saying. I know in that moment I never want to be without her. She takes a breath, looks at me and I jump in: Marry me?
She is ranting and it is beautiful. A few years in and the fire in her eyes has only gotten brighter. She is truly captivating. She looks at me and knows I haven't been listening. I take a breath: It worked, we're going to have a baby.
She is ranting and it is beautiful. He face has started to wrinkle and her hair has started to grey, but the fire and passion are still glowing strong. She stops when she notices she has an audience. I give the little one her cue: Mama, I'm going to be a big sister.
She is ranting and it is beautiful. The caterer has messed something up and the flowers have still not been delivered. The fire in her eyes and passion in her voice is so familiar. I look over at the woman next to me and smile: She gets that from you, you know.
She is ranting and it is beautiful. At least, I'm pretty sure it's a rant. Her newborn eyes are closed tight, but there is passion behind her cries. I feel a pair of eyes on me: Ok grandma, you take her.
She is ranting and it is beautiful. Her eyes are covered by glasses, but I know the fire is there. Her voice shakes, but is still full of passion. I call her over when her cane gets too close to the nurse's face: We've had 60 years, it's ok to let go.
She leans close and her eyes are the last thing I see. Her voice, a simple I love you, the last thing I hear.
