John and I were chatting with a man about his anniversary. I asked about what he recalled from that day, a quarter of a century ago. 

 

"When I saw her in her wedding dress, I felt like I was looking at an angel."

 

She was not in the room at the time, but the memory felt as palpable as if she were. He is recovering from an injury that interrupted his routine, three months ago, and he has just begun standing without the aid of crutches or a boot. 

 

"Yesterday was the first time I could hug her standing up. It was so great. She has carried the load for this family a long time, and I am really eager to ease the burden. I used to do the shopping, and the yard, and I have not been able to. It's been hard, knowing I could not help the way I did."

 

I thought about how I take for granted these simple blessings. I can put my arms around John any time I choose. But do I? 

 

The refrain from a song I used to sing meandered through my mind.

 

"You don't know what you've got til it's gone..."

 

I resolved to be grateful, not only for touch, and teamwork, but the ordinary miracle of waking up beside John, and stepping on to the floor with no paraphernalia to support me.