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It was just after midnight. The old man was in bed, but apparently the old woman couldn’t sleep. She sat in the rocking chair in their bedroom, while the overhead light illuminated her knitting and made a soft halo of her beautiful white hair. Seemingly unconcerned that the light might bother her husband; she rocked back and forth as she knitted, softly humming an old hymn. She began speaking aloud, although her voice was slightly hushed.
“It’s a New Year, Herm! And you did it again. You managed to get out of taking your best girl to a New Year’s Eve party.” She chuckled. “This makes the 47th year in a row. How you manage to keep coming up with excuses, I’ll never know. Guess I won’t ever get to a New Year’s Eve party. Unless, of course, I go by myself. I just might do that this year.” She continued rocking, although her busy hands had slowed a bit.
“I have to say, that in spite of the New Year’s Eve parties we’ve missed, you’ve been a real good husband, Herm. I couldn’t ask for better.” The rocking chair had slowed down by now, and her hands had stopped their work.
“Don’t know what I’m going to do without you, Herm.” A tear spilled out of the corner of her eye and rolled down her wrinkled cheek. She walked over and kissed the cold, still face of her husband, who had died sometime during the night. It was a new year, and she was alone.
“I guess I’d better call the preacher. Is that what I should do Herm? Wish you could tell me what I should do.” She walked over to the phone by their bed and dialed.
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