“I’m Jenna,” she explained. “I’m an event planner. Walter hired me to organize this.”
I looked around again and finally understood.
The room had been decorated like a prom from the 1970s—complete with disco balls, retro posters, and even a punch bowl.
My daughter wrapped her arms around me.
“We’ve been planning this for months, Mom. Walter wanted everything to be perfect.”
Walter then extended his hand toward me.
“May I have this dance?”
The music began—a slow jazz song from our youth.
He pulled me close, and we swayed gently together. For a moment, it felt as though we were sixteen again, as if time itself had folded back.
“I love you, Debbie,” he whispered.
“I love you too,” I replied.
“I’m sorry it took us over five decades to get here.”
I shook my head softly.
