On August 19th my parents celebrated 47 years of marriage. I never recall their anniversary date for several reasons. 1) It’s on the 19th and 19 is just not a number that sparks joy (for me). 2) They would act like it was any other day like Saturday. 3) It’s at the end of August and with all the Leo’s I know and school starting, you have to get in line for the last bit of summer joy.

My parents did it right. And as cliche as possible. They are together for 47 years because they said they’d do it. They’re together to celebrate because neither has died and both chose one another over all others. I’m sure they are also proud that their children are not the same age as their anniversary.

But these 47 years are theirs and theirs alone. We do not celebrate. They do. They are the future. I am the past.