The aroma of maple and dew fills the air. The white curtains dance from the slight breeze. The sun peeping through my window above my sink warms my cheeks. I stand over the stove flipping pancakes and bacon, adding small amounts of maple syrup to the bacon pan. My husband likes his bacon seared in maple syrup. But only the syrup from the maple trees in our backyard. I feel a pair of hands slide around my waist as my husband plants a small kiss on my right cheek. I love when he greets me in the morning. It brings an abundant amount of comfort. I notice he looks down at my left hand. The small smile from his perfectly chiseled face fades away. His blue eyes pierce my soul with sorrow. 

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles while bringing me into a warm embrace. 

“Hey, don’t be sorry. Our marriage is not defined by a ring. Only the beauty of our love.” I plant a soft kiss on his cheek, making him smile with reassurance. 

Pulling myself out of our hug, I walk to the VHS player my mom had gifted me before moving out. I pop the Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers tape and pressed play. I shoot my husband an excited look as “Island In the Stream” begins to fill the room. I catapulte my right hand out in front of my husband as he takes it and twirls me into a dip. The remainder of the morning filled with contagious laughter and bright-eyed smiles remind us of the night we met.