Sunny Sunday.

A warm breeze drifted through the grassy field. A woman, twenty years of age, sat under a tree, reading a book. Her flaming red hair was loose from it's bun and drifted at her waist, tickling the face of the man who had his head on her lap. She sighed and closed the book, setting it aside and looking down, her emerald green eyes finding the warm chocolate ones of the man looking up at her. She ran her fingers through his brown hair, the same shade as his eyes, smiling. He reached up and gently placed his hand on her cheek, and she leaned down, pressing her lips to his.
"Happy birthday." She whispered. He smiled back at her before kissing her again.

If you were to look down on the scene from above, you'd see a woman, red hair falling like curtains on either side of her face, a blue dress spread out around her, with a brown haired man laying in her lap, wearing a tie and a dark red button down shirt with black pants. You'd see them smiling at each other, but you'd never know that it was his 21st birthday, or that this was their 8th year anniversary.
You'd never know the next words that came out of his mouth.

"Mia, will you marry me?" He asked, watching her expression. She smiled widely and nodded.
"Yes, Ian. I will."

You may think that marriage at such a young age is foolish, but sixty years from now...
______
It's been sixty years since Ian proposed to Mia. It's his 81st birthday, and he's celebrating it with his two daughters, Amelia and Rayne, their sons, Joshua, Matthew, Isaac, and Tristan, their daughter, Annamaria, and his great granddaughter, Miabeth.
five years ago, his wife, Mia, died. Though they married young, they were together for fifty-five years, and though others have stopped counting, to Ian, he's been married to Mia Chase for sixty years, and until the day he dies, every year he'll celebrate their anniversary at her grave, because no matter how young they were, Ian Reynolds and Mia Chase were in love, and even death couldn't erase the memory of that Sunny Sunday.