With tears in my eyes, I place the picture back, while Maxime opens a new drawer. It's the one that squeaks slightly whenever it's moved.
The one that carries our miracle.
A tiny pink plastic hospital bracelet.
"Every storm comes to an end someday," I say, for what Maxime now holds in his hands is the proof of that.
We hoped, we suffered, and we kept picking ourselves up. We accepted our fate, never stopped believing in that future, and faced every setback together.
"And some storms can only be defeated by letting go and trusting that after the rain, there will be sunshine," Maxime adds with a wistful smile before closing the drawer.
Together, we step back. He wraps his arm around me, and I nestle against him, gazing at the countless drawers.
Behind us lies a life filled with light and darkness, joy and sorrow, hope and fear. Now, as it inevitably comes to an end, we have more than we ever dreamed of. And when I look back on all these years today, I am filled with gratitude.
Because I know that we have created this life for ourselves. The storms we had to weather were fierce, and they tested us. But we can't choose our fate. We can only decide how to deal with it.
Maxime and I have made countless decisions together over the past decades. And each one of them has changed us.
Our love has not only endured all these years. It has grown like a tree, with deep roots and strong branches.
With this feeling in my heart, I turn around and offer Maxime my hand in a flowing motion.
He takes it, makes a bow, and draws me close. His warmth and scent surround me.
I sigh, falling into his arms. "I ... had ... the time of..." I begin to sing softly, taking a step back.
Our mambo is far from as smooth as it used to be, the swaying of our hips is limited and angular, the spins are slow. I can't stay on my tiptoes for long, and it's probably been thirty years since Maxime last lifted me for a dance figure.
Yet we dance our dance. Today and for the rest of our days. In the warm light of the setting sun, accompanied by the rustle of the wind and my soft singing.
The mambo is no longer just the dance of our hope.
It's the dance of our life.
