We awake to a fresh fall of snow. And with it comes a sense that we need to tuck in, sip hot chocolate, and sit and talk of happy times past. Joe and I have not documented our livies in pictures, we have stories to tell - and some of those stories are down to a couple of words 'balsamic vinegar' and 'pink sunglasses' are two of our recent favourites, we need no more than those words, each understands the entire context, each sees the same picture, each cherishes the moment.
Right now, for reasons I'm not quite ready to share here on the blog, we are both steeped in memory and are trying to figure how to honour someone who's had a powerful role in our lives. We want her to know, we believe she does, but don't want to make it seem like we are praising in anticipating her death. We are, we are, but not now, not yet. She feels she is a burden to us. She's not. Not ever.
So we tell stories, she knows some short forms too, 'it took longer to read the paper' that story brings us to tears of laughter, then there's the 'I am not a prostitute' and 'longer than the drive to Georgeville' - those you gotta be little more careful with. But we all know them all, long version and short version.
I have always been lucky to have, in my life, someone older, someone wiser, who chose to love me. I have always been lucky to have someone in my life who sees my valuve - when others don't. I can face a million based on the faith of 'one' and as it's been proven, millions more with just 'two'.
We are aware that we are going to be left again, soon.
But since she is MINE, she always will have a bit of real estate, a summer cabin, build on the plains of my heart, for the days when heaven's too breezy.