She worked as an accountant at a local insurance company, was divorced, and had no children. They met at a senior citizens’ yoga class at the community center.
At first, we thought she might be taking advantage of him. But when we met her—kind, polite, soft-spoken—we noticed the way she looked at my father. And the way he looked at her. It wasn’t pity. It was peace.
The ceremony took place in the backyard of our family home, under a large mango tree decorated with tiny lights. Nothing extravagant, just a simple gathering of friends and family, roast chicken, soft drinks, laughter, and a few tears.
Larissa wore a light pink dress, her hair up, her eyes filled with tenderness. My father seemed nervous but happy, like a young man in love for the first time.
That night, while everyone was helping to tidy up, my sister joked:
Continued on next page//
