My father, Antônio Ferreira, had lived alone for over twenty years after my mother passed, dedicating his life to work, Sunday mass, and his small garden in Belo Horizonte. At sixty, he finally felt ready to think about himself. That November, he called my sister and me with news that surprised us: he had met someone—Larissa, a thirty-year-old accountant, divorced, and childless. Their bond grew quickly, gentle and genuine, built on shared laughter and quiet understanding.
Their wedding was simple and beautiful, held under a mango tree in our backyard, adorned with tiny lights. Friends and family gathered for roast chicken, soft drinks, and warm conversation. My father seemed both nervous and exhilarated, like a young man discovering love for the first time. Larissa’s kindness and tenderness were unmistakable, and it was clear she and my father were at peace together.
That night, a scream jolted us awake. Rushing to the master bedroom, we discovered the source: my father had tripped while presenting Larissa with a huge bouquet, startling her. What seemed alarming at first quickly turned into laughter, as the couple shared a moment of awkward joy.
The incident became a cherished memory, symbolizing the start of their shared life. Despite the age difference and years of solitude, my father had found love again. That night, the house felt alive, whole, and filled with laughter, marking a new chapter for our family.
