I turned and settled back into my seat, gazing at the open expanse of country around us. We said no more on the subject, and I relished in the satisfaction of coming up with the last name of a family we had been talking about and couldn't remember their name. What makes this event somewhat remarkable is that the couldn't-recall-their-last-name conversation had taken place approximately three weeks previous. No mention of it since. And yet, there we were in the middle of
I sat there savoring the victory of the memory, his nod and the 2-word reply as if the conversation was current, and I felt this weird tidal wave of love for Joel. I considered just how amusing we're going to get as we age. We'll be 82 and have a bazillion unfinished conversations. We'll be sitting at the mall just shouting out seeming nonsensical phrases and passers-by will be convinced we're senile, but we'll both be nodding, understanding what the other one is saying, comfortable with the partnership we've built. I like that.
Thank you, Wyoming.
2 comments:
adorable.
I love it :) I've definitely had moments like that. I have this bad habit of only saying half of a sentence, because the other half is in my head--i.e. "...because it'll just be too cold, you know?" And my favorite thing about John is that he almost always knows what I'm talking about. Love it :)
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