We went to Agra once. The Emperor was dead, but his love, said the postcards, survived.

Well, it wasn't like in the postcards, bright blue skies and only the Taj Mahal in view. No, it wasn't like that at all; it was muggy, ugly weather with a cloudy grey sky, tourists overflowing from the walking paths, posing in every free space.

But still, it was beautiful. The minarets rested high in the grey sky, almost camouflaged, hidden from the mass of dirty people below. I wondered, then, about the man who made the monument. Was he simply declaring his love in an ostentatious fashion? To me, it seemed he was hiding her behind the walls and towers of marble, the way we are all tempted to hide away our treasures.

It seems strange to wonder after a dead emperor's heart, but perhaps I thought it would help me understand the human heart. After all, with love walks doubt and sacrifice, but some of us are strong enough to overcome the fear and make it last.

Mother thought we weren't listening when she whispered into my father's ear:

"This is a perfect tribute to Love."

I am not my mother, so I don't know what she meant, and I don't know what Shah Jahan meant when he built the Taj Mahal for his dead wife. But I know that some things, while incomprehensible, are beautiful to behold.

author note: the end ... for now. this is as true a story as i can write.

a few of you have messaged me saying that this story was too incredible to be true, or told me that they wished their parents were as "cute". thank you very kindly, but my own affection and nostalgia for home probably prevented me from writing more about the "bad" parts of my parents relationship.

my mother often says that she fell out of love with my father the day they got married. it's a joke, but there's an ounce of truth to it; they married young, they rushed things, and they are not soul mates. i want you to understand that maybe they would both be in better places if they weren't together, but also to know this: that isn't the point of love or family to them, the what ifs and what could have beens.

truth be told, i didn't want to end this story here, but i decided to use some restraint. i may post a story about my father separately later; if you'd like to be sent a message when i do, just tell me in a review.

also, every family has incredible stories. you should ask your parents how they met.