November 14, 2018 marks three years since you died. To commemorate, your son and I went to your favorite place, the Phillip’s Gallery, and onto lunch. Afterward we walked down 19th Street, where I first met you in 1977. That…Continue Reading →
For our final days in Venice, we bought vaporetto passes, which meant we could ride the boats through the canals as much as we wanted. We tried to ride on the back of the boat, open to the elements, but…Continue Reading →
Italy was on our minds when we boarded a plane late Sunday night at IAD. Lufthansa actually served a pasta meal at midnight, which surely violates some gastronomical law. By then Dan was already asleep, but I stayed awake until…Continue Reading →
As 2017 came to a close, I read the following profile on Match.com: I am retired from my career as a manufacturers’ representative but still enjoy working seasonally as a Washington, DC tour guide. I truly enjoy the history of…Continue Reading →
My husband John has been dead over two years now. His death feels as if he just stepped out of the room; at the same time his death feels as if it happened a lifetime ago. I have written about…Continue Reading →
Picture Dan and me in my backyard at three in the morning. Rain pelts us. Dan is in my window-well, standing ankle-deep in water. He sends a bucket down then lifts the bucket to me. I carry the bucket across…Continue Reading →
In 1971, two months after graduating from college and getting married, Pete and I moved to Washington, DC. Our first address was a basement in Glover Park on a road called Tunlaw, walnut spelled backward. In order to enter our…Continue Reading →
