Dove
"Mama you're only thirty-seven, you've always looked young," I laughed as I pressed a kiss to her cheek.
Pa, who had gotten a haircut, perfectly faded on the sides and his peppercorn hair left in messy waves that he insisted made him look more handsome, sat on the couch long being done after a good shave from the barber. "The same comment cannot be passed to me," he grinned as he folded his arms over his chest. Evidently Pa was fifty-eight but I always insisted he still looked like he was in forties because he did.
"Of course it can be," I laughed as I went over to sit next to him. My head rested on his shoulder.
