When I'm Sixty-Four....to SMK

In 1963, I fell in love with Paul McCartney. He wasn't "Sir Paul" back then. He was a famous young man appearing on my parents 21' RCA Victor console, and I was a 16 year old girl screeching at his image.
In 1964, I fell in love with Scott Kincaid. He wasn't on my TV screen, he was in my geometry class in high school. Regardless of his lack of celebrity, he made my heart flutter.
Now, 45 years later, my husband and I are living the Beatles' lyrics, "When I'm Sixty Four". It is actually "many years from now". And yes, we are still sending each other Valentines, having birthday parties and an occasional bottle of wine. Grandchildren "Vera, Chuck and Dave" have appeared in the form of Nina, Alex and Sophia, plus a couple more. Over the years, we have had to "scrimp and save".
Much has been written about young love. It is fresh, hot and romantic. Everything is new and exciting. Growing old together is the furthest thing from young lovers' minds.
We have attended several weddings lately. As I sit there watching the young brides, I hope and pray that their unions will be as firm and lasting as mine. Realistically, I have become skeptical. Most of our young relatives have changed relationships so often that I no longer enter their names and addresses permanently, in ink, in my address book. I write them in pencil.
These days "mine forever more" doesn't seem to mean much. Mine until someone better comes along, or mine until the going gets too tough, seems to ring truer.
There is a statue on the Country Club Plaza on another "Sir", Sir Winston Churchill and his wife, that is called "Married Love". It depicts the old guy and his equally mature spouse. You can tell they've been through a lot. When you look at her you get the feeling that she has probably "knit a sweater (or two) by the fireside" and we know he led Great Britain, through WW II. But, they certainly appear to be content and comfortable, sitting there side by side.
Mature love is like a soft old sweatshirt. It's comfortable and wearable. Couples that stay together while surviving childbirth, Little League, teenage angst, and ever widening waist lines, deserve our admiration. So when my "lights have gone", I'm going to count on my spouse of 44 years to "mend my fuse". Yes, I'll "still need" you. Yes, I'll "still feed" you, when you're sixty-four.
Happy 64th Birthday,sweetheart.