An elderly couple walked down the aisle past me in church this morning. Like fine wine, I’ve watched them age over the last thirty years. That’s how long I’ve been a member of this congregation.

She came in first, found a pew two rows in front of me and built her nest. She set her purse and bible down, careful not to lose the bulletin she had picked up on the way in. Slowly, she came out of her large winter coat and set it on the back of the pew so she’d have a warm place to sit.

I’m not a very big guy, but this couple is what I’d call tiny. She is maybe five foot tall, if that. He is shorter and more frail than her.

Just about the time she had settled into her seat, he was easing down the aisle, cane in hand, feeling his way along with each step. When he turned to greet people along the way to where she had settled in, his whole body had to turn in that direction. I gathered the years have not been kind to his neck and spine.

It took him several minutes to greet a few familiar faces before he made it to where she was sitting. After making it to the correct pew he leaned against the endcap for a moment contemplating how to make the last maneuver into the pew.

Finally, he began his descent downward toward the cushion. A few inches above the pew’s bottom he gave up and dropped down with a mild plop. Ahhh, sweet relief. He took a breath. She turned and smiled at him, patted his leg, and turned to face the front of the church.

While sitting there I had noticed something peculiar about the back of her dress below the hairline, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Then something else caught my attention as the service began, and I focused on the service.

We had stood and were singing the second song of the service when I noticed the lady lean in her husband’s direction and whisper something in his ear. He leaned backward a bit, looked her over, smiled and nodded.

We were still singing when she slowly turned away from him. He turned, cranked his whole body toward her and reached up toward the back of her dress. With trembling hands and fingers, he grasped the zipper on the back of her dress and gave it a tug upward. Nothing happened. He tugged again. It moved up a bit. Then with one hand he tried pulling the two sides of her dress together while heaving upward.

Success. Sweet success. The zipper slid all the way up into home position.

She smiled and turned back toward the front of the church as if nothing had happened. He smiled, twisted his body back into place and faced the pulpit.

Another Sunday, another save.

It crossed my mind that in another fifteen or so years, the good Lord willing, that may be me and my wife. It’s nice to have someone to grow old with.

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Rick Algood
December 9, 2018