I lifted it from Ginny’s thigh and placed it between the pages of my book.
“Ginny?” I shook her shoulder.
“Hmm?” she moaned.
I shook her again, “Ginny, time for bed, Hun.”
“Yes?”
“Come on, Hun. Let’s go to bed.” I took her hand in mine. “Come on, Hun.”
We climbed the stairs. I held her hand with one of mine. In my other, I carried my book. The tattered bookmark dangled from each end.
I sat up in bed. Ginny slept beside me. I pulled the bookmark from my book and looked at it again. We’d been through a lot and both showed our age. Like its tassels, my hair is mostly gone. Its middle is folded in from years of being pressed together between the pages of countless books.
My middle is folding out from years of good food and not enough exercise.
My bookmark started out marking spots in my books. I’ve come to realize, it didn’t just mark the pages of my books, it marked the pages of my life.
Read Part One
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