When I was a little boy, some of the most magical moments I recall were the evenings when my parents dressed up for formal events. My mother would be in a gown with sparkly accents. Her hair would be coiffed and she would have make-up on. My father was in his Army colonel's gala uniform. They were engrossed in trying to look as perfect as possible in front of the mirror. During those times they were also engrossed only in each other. They were no longer my mother and my father. I did not exist. The years turned back swiftly and they were newlyweds once again.

They would kiss me and my younger sister good night, and they even smelled different then. My mother had perfume, my father cologne.

On evenings like those there was nothing else for me to do but sleep because I knew that my parents would be coming home very late.

The magic was always broken the next day, when my mother and my father would be the same persons I knew them to be all over again.

I wonder if, when I had to dress for a formal event, my sons and my grandchildren ever looked at me that way.