ASE Magazine

I cherish my wife, who is 15 years my senior, and she brought along two children. A boy, nearly three years old, and a girl, aged eleven. Even she was puzzled as to why I would choose her, believing she had considerable baggage. She inquired, “How is this going to work? I’m so much older than you?”

I responded, “It’s simply a matter of mathematics. I’m 23 and you’re 38. Therefore, when I reach 50, you will be 65, and so forth.”

She countered, “I’m too old to have any more children.”

I replied, “What is wrong with the two we already have?”

She questioned, “Let me clarify. You intend to raise another man’s children?”

I answered, “No. I love you, and they are part of you. How could I not love them?”

That was 32 years ago. The children are now adults. I am 55, and she is 70. She is the love of my life, and I am hers. Our son is 35 and works as a general practitioner, while our daughter is nearly 43 and earns a six-figure salary in the finance sector. They refer to me as Dad, and they call their biological father by his first name.

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