There will be many of you who will volunteer luxury names like Prada, or Rollex, Apple, Microsoft, Dom Perignon, or San Pelligrino.
Mine is a simpler life. Yes, there is the occasion on which a San Pelligrino might come to my table. I have even been known to use a Microsoft product.
Someone had just informed me a week ago that the Yankee season was going badly.
This apropos my husband not wanting to be a Yankee fan “’cause they never lose.”
The Yankee – Red Sox matchup was on our set for less than a minute when we were greeted by a grand slam. [All numbers are approximate as I wasn’t fully attending.]
The Yankees had a 4-run lead quicker than you could say Jackie Robinson.
Any further information about the Yankees (or my husband’s Mets) will be gleaned from encounters on our street. I don’t expect to be following games or the fate of our home teams.
Writers of historical fiction have the patience and savvy of scientists. They unearth secrets from the past to share with us. It’s as painstaking a process as archaeology.
Only once the excavation is done does a narrative unfold. Wow.
I had traveled across much of Europe. I had visited London and Dublin and gone all over Israel. I really enjoyed a short stay in a ClubMed in Western Mexico.
And yet, none of that compares with the first trip we took as a couple. My now husband whisked me off to a long weekend in Newport RI.
A storm greeted us as we crossed the bridge to our destination. We had already slogged through an amazing traffic backup en route.
Of course, this would not have made the weekend notable.
The promise of our love and companionship is what flavored this trip and gave us the memories.
Over the years, we’ve taken many short hops in the eastern states, each a fond memory of joy and laughter.
This was just the beginning, and we all know that beginnings are special.