In Moldova, as well as in some other some ex-USSR countries, there is a tradition of giving names to the wedding anniversaries after different materials. Five years is called a wooden wedding, 10 years - a tin one, 25 years - a silver one and etc. My grandparents are proudly saying to everyone that they have been married for 50 years now, an equivalent of a golden wedding. They appreciate the awe and respect they get for this achievement. Indeed they have been living under the same roof for over 50 years, yet it's hard to imagine people who have been more distant from each other all their lives. When asked how come they are still together, my grandma always wonders "What would people say if we separate?". 


   Both me and my dad (their son) could hardly remember a moment when they ever hugged or said something nice to each other beyond the sight of public eyes. I keep wondering what really unites these people and keeps them from living their own lives. It should be very hard for my grandparents to be together, yet maybe it's even harder to be alone.