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Sarah nuzzled sleepily against Nora's shoulder. The world had gone pleasantly fuzzy around the edges, thanks to at least a bottle of wine and far too much laughter. But now the house was empty, and she and Nora sat together on the couch leafing through the photo album, as had become a birthday tradition.
The pictures of baby Nick and baby David were still there, but more pages had been added as their family had grown. Nick and Charlie's wedding, David and Gwen's first dance. Sarah holding her first grandchild, beaming at the camera while a tiny red face scrunched up for their first poop. There were the photos from their wedding, Nora in her suit, and Sarah in her purple dress.
There were photos from their trip to Iceland and so many other vacations they've taken together. Sarah knew that if she'd retired on her own, she never would have travelled the way she did with Nora. They spent plenty of time visiting the grandchildren, but she lived a life that was her own. Not just that of her children, and she was happy.
“You are so loved, my dear,” said Nora.
“I know, but it's still always amazing that this is where we wound up,” said Sarah. “To think how different my life would have been had I never met you.”
“Your family would still have been wonderful, as much as I'm glad to be part of it” said Nora. “Happy birthday, my love.”
Sarah pointed at a photograph of Nora standing outside an old brick factory in Sheffield. “Nora, love, in what universe was I going to visit an old steel mill in Sheffield without you? I was never going to explore the industries of England by myself.”
“The Harris Tweed factory was your idea,” countered Nora.
“One of how many trips? I'd just be going back and forth between the boys houses to babysit and you know it.”
“You still do that. Isn't it David and Gwen's big trip to Ireland next month?”
“No, Charlie has that work trip to Macedonia first. Violet wants you to teach her how to knit.”
“Maybe she'll be more patient than you were,” teased Nora.
“It's not my fault it's witchcraft!” protested Sarah. Nora laughed and kissed her hair.
“Let's get you to bed. But water first. You don't want to start off your 8th decade hungover.”
“I'm only 70!”
“Yes, which means this will be your eighth decade.”
“Don't make me maths drunk,” grumbled Sarah as she pushed herself up. “That's just mean.”
Nora laughed and kissed her. “It could be worse. It could be… fractions.”
Sarah lost it at the dramatic proclamation, dissolving into giggles. The two stumbled their way towards the bedroom, startling an indignant cat as they flopped onto the mattress.
Sarah squeezed Nora's hand. “Thank you for making my ever after so much happier.”