Yesterday, I dropped off number only son at school and made an early am grocery run. As I was unpacking produce I told my husband that it was 21 years since he proposed. "Oh", says he. "Are those clementines?
To clarify, sometimes he rings my bell, other times he cranks my tractor.
So last night, when he got home he handed me a box. It was a small, hand blown glass heart in a gorgeous shade of red, for the Christmas tree.
"Well" he told me, embarrassed, "twenty one years is worth something."
Ring, ring. The man has good martial survival skills.
I don't have time to post now, but I have been thinking about the ghosts in my car and the nature of being invisible 1)as you get older and 2)at any age, really. There is a chance that I might have an interesting story or something semi-intelligent to say in the not far distant future.
Stranger things have happened.