For Better or For Worse (Book 2)

Epilogue Pt. 3

Every year that passes by I only love you more
Every day brings us closer still
And every night I close my eyes and pray we have forever
Cause I love the way we're growing old together
-Richie McDonald

Outside the cabin, the winter wind howls through the bare trees, while inside, the old woman's fire is nearly out.

She sits in her favorite rocking chair, a pair of knitting needles poised between her hands. She has nimble fingers, the nimblest, and they work deftly to make a woolen scarf for her husband.

It's three days before Christmas, and all the presents have been neatly wrapped and placed under the tree. A handmade straw nativity sits in front of everything, and everyone knows that the owners worked extra hard to keep it unobscured by the piles of gifts that are gathered around it.

It's the most important part of Christmas, which the old woman and her husband had spent many a day explaining to their kids. Who, happily married and with children of their own, are all grown up now, visiting only on holidays and abrupt surprise occasions.

The old woman rocks softly back and forth, the chair creaking with old age. It's one of the things she likes most about it. Her rocker is ancient and rickety, as she is, her fraying hair a deep gray, her blue eyes losing some of the playful shine they used to hold.

Glancing out the window, the old woman watches her grandchildren throw snowballs at each other, shrieking with happiness. She smiles sadly, wishing she had the strength to go out and enjoy the Canadian winter wonderland with them.

She hasn't gotten out much in the last few years, and she misses the fun she used to have as a young woman. She misses messing around with her friends, who she managed to keep contact with by monthly phone calls and annual reunions. She misses intense games of manhunt, competitive rounds of capture the flag and casual hangouts of ice cream and boy talk for the girls and Zombie Overload and wrestling for the boys.

She looks down at the almost completed scarf, all of the 11 friend's name etched flawlessly into the red wool. They are all healthy and still kicking, not wanting to be the first one to leave the pack behind. As teenagers, the old woman and her husband were considered high school sweethearts, and she smiles at the memory of the other couples that made it through as much as they had.

The timid girl with the flowing brown hair, a shy smile always plastered to her face, married to the lanky blonde boy with the crooked grin.

The feisty brunette with the curious stare, married to the last member to join the group, the small, muscular boy with an infatuation for bandannas.

The feisty one's twin, with the sad brown eyes whose secrets will never be revealed. The simplest, but by far the smartest of the group, with a life dedicated to running a home for wild, reckless teenagers who are everything he never was as a young boy.

The boy with the fierce blue eyes, married to someone who never quite joined the group. He drifted from the rest after their elopement, but it was expected. There is one of those in every group, who never really keeps in touch, but will always be in their hearts.

The two boys with the same name, never married but happy for their entire lives, becoming practically inseparable when both of their best friends were married. Living together in an apartment for over thirty years, working at the same law firm until they retired and were moved to Assisted Living.

The youngest girl with the tortured past, always wise beyond her years, now living happily with the husband who was always perfect for her, but joined the group in the later years of their friendships. The two sit at home, growing old together, not quite caught up to the other friends they aged with.