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Emily awoke to the stillness of pre-dawn. She turned her face to the window and noticed the gray light stealing in through the window. Sighing deeply, she tried to keep still and not wake Ralph. Not yet. This was her time and she cherished it. Ralph's snoring cut through to her and she smiled slightly. How many mornings had she quibbled with him over that? And when had it no longer bothered her? In fact, when had she learned to fall asleep to it?

She pulled the sheet up to her chin and gently rolled over onto her side. Ralph's back was facing her, his shoulder blades expanding and falling with each ragged breath he took. She looked at the flesh on his back - when had it taken on that weathered look? She didn't remember that before.

She looked up onto the top of the dresser and her eyes absorbed the large photograph that had stood there for years. Emily's gaze softened as she took in the photograph that marked their wedding. That was 35 years ago today. She looked at the young girl, only 19 years old, the white dress her mother had worn altered to fit her slim frame, and clutching at the arm of the man beside her. Ralph. Only 21 then, he had opted to wear his Marine uniform instead of the traditional tux. He had just finished college that spring of 1968 and had taken up his duty to serve his country in Viet Nam. Emily had been terrified, afraid of losing the only man she ever knew she would love. The night he told her he was enlisting was the night he placed the ring on her finger and ...

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