Luke 18.9
Bill Moses eases the Mercedes close to the long, curved, Belgian-stone path that leads to the Holingwoods' front door.
"Will you come in for a nightcap?" asks Elsie Holingwood from the back seat as she unbuckles the seat belt. Her husband John is already out of the car and holding open the door on her side. "Yes, do come in for a bit," he says.
"It's late, Jane Moses says. She glances sideways at her husband to catch some hint that he agrees. Satisfied that they are of one mind, she hurries to add, "but we'll take a rain check on it. It was wonderful to be with both of you."
"It sure was," Bill says. "And thank you for dinner. Next time it's our treat, and you can do the driving."
Bill waits until the Holingwoods are inside their house and have flicked the porch light on and off two times in farewell before he slowly backs the Mercedes down the driveway and onto the street. "Nice people," he says.
"And such dear friends," she says. "Let's not allow that much time to lapse again between get-togethers. Life's too short."
"And getting shorter. Speaking of which, John's all-of-a-sudden showing his age, isn't he? Tonight he really looked like an old man."
She nods. "But you look good for your age, Bill, so maybe it's just the contrast. And hasn't Elsie aged, too!"
"Well, there again, honey," he says, "it could be the contrast between you and her."
She snuggles against him as much as the seat belt permits, and sighs a happy sigh. "We do okay, don't we Bill?"
"Yes, we do, honey. If I say so myself, we sure do!"
The Mercedes hums along. At home, she knows, their house will be warm and welcoming. A full moon shines above. Life for us is still very good, she thinks.
The germ of a question nags at her. But how much longer will we stay youthful?
She squelches the worrisome thought aborning.
. . . . . . . . . . .
Elsie Hollingwood, at her dresser, removes an earring from one earlobe and then one from the other. "Did I look okay tonight, dear?"
John comes to stand behind her. Their eyes meet in the mirror. "More than okay, honey; you looked lovely tonight," he says. "By the way, was it just my imagination, or is Bill suddenly old?"
"Um," she says, "and Jane too. Oh, John, it's sad to see dear friends age so.
Thank goodness we're still holding our own."
He nods. "Some days I feel no more than fifty."
She hasn't yet pulled the draperies, and moonlight bathes the bedroom in amber light, enhancing their reflection in the mirror. We're a youthful-looking couple, she thinks, and sighs with contentment. Life is still very good. But how long before we too start to show the ravages of time? She refuses to worry about it.