I held on to my father’s arm as we strode down the grassy path toward my future husband. His hair was down and blowing in the slight breeze, and those gray eyes found mine. Just like they always had. I had flashbacks of standing up in front of the class in third grade to give a presentation about Abraham Lincoln and finding those same gray eyes out in the classroom that calmed my nerves. Those same eyes that comforted me the day I lost my mother and he held me tight as I cried for hours. The same gray eyes that found me in the midst of a blaze that nearly killed me and Mabel.
