It's hard for me not to think of my mother-in-law this morning. There's a cheerful bouquet of zinnias, just like the one we picked together a few weeks ago, on the kitchen counter, and I've just sent her son off to work with a very garlicky lunch. She would appreciate this more than he (or his co-workers) will.
We met ten years ago this morning, on the train tracks. A story she tells over and over again and that I don't feel like writing about now. Later that day, we'd go into town together, the three of us, walking by the zoo and the stream with the ducks (her favorite way, soon to be mine, too). We stopped for a bite late in the afternoon, at a place she didn't like at all. A place for old aunties, and anyway the coffee is terrible. But you know, she would say, he (H) likes it. What she wouldn't mention is that the sweets are spectacular there. H and I both have a small weakness for this, but she doesn't care for dessert, except cheese and a little fruit, maybe.
I'm eating Italian plums this morning, and pack another few for my lunch today. I can hardly keep up with this batch, they are so ripe. This is what she would have at her house now, too. It's that time of year again. Our tenth anniversary this morning.
No comments:
Post a Comment