"What one thing will you do for her when you're old and wrinkly?" someone asked.
"I will still make her laugh", you replied.
I woke up this morning reminiscing about our future - where we'll be, what we'll be doing, what we'll look like. You see, in my dream last night, I saw us sitting by a log fire outside our camper van. You were reading a novel - the one that's now less of a dystopia and more of a non-fiction (based on a true story) story. You could tell I was gazing at you and looked up, smile first.
You still looked like you, mostly. Same cheeks, same grin. Same piercing eyes but with a few more wrinkles. Your trimmed beard, no longer a kaleidoscope of black, blonde and ginger shades, but grey, silver grey. In an attempt to fit in, your sideburns also changed colour. In an attempt to comfort me, they retained their length.
I took your hand in mine, knowing full well that in mine is where your hand belonged. One pale, one tanned, remember? I never did grow my nails out. I never did buy that dream catcher - I didn't need it. You picked up a flower from the ground and put it in my hair. White petals with a yellow centre. Also our daughter.
Under a star-kissed sky we talked and talked all night. We have always been good at that - talking, questioning life, the universe and everything in between. "We've had a beautiful life together, haven't we?" you whispered in my ears even though there was nobody else around. "What do you say, do you want to go round again?"
I don't remember how the dream ended but I woke up laughing.
You must have said something funny.