" Happy Birthday, he said. Am I really 100 years old already? she joked. Yes, he said. It must be weird for you, I suppose. It’s weird for me too. It’s almost like I keep thinking I’ll wake up one day and be back in my childhood home, the sheets smelling like apples, the breeze blowing the curtains in and out, in and out. But no matter how much I miss my childhood, I would never trade it in for these last few wonderful years with you. I love you. And she replied, I love you too. More than these one hundred years can say. Now, let’s blow out the candles and enjoy a little cake, shall we? "