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Us

April 21, 2007

Walking to dinner, you walk the same speed as me, slower because my feet hurt from being in heels all day. Animated conversations over dinner, about the job I’m excited to be interviewing for, baseball players fame, and the bathroom flusher and tiles. We wonder about delivery, the pizza is so good, and pick up a to go menu on the way out.

We walk into a “everything you could possibly need packed into one” store on the way out, you oblige my desire to browse while rocking out to John Bon Jovi’s Always. When the song is over your patience wears thin. You notice Lloyd Bridges name spelled wrong on a DVD on the way out.

We walk home, not having to hold hands or have our arms wrapped around each other, just being side by side. I suggest a cupcake and you heartily agree. They only have mini’s left so we pop into Tasti D- Lite too. I think you’ve said it tastes like air before, but you don’t mind you’ll get a cone anyway. I look at you as we walk the last 1/2 block home. I’m so happy, we live together, have quiet Friday nights together, share good food together and after it all we go home together, our home. We don’t have to cuddle closely on the couch, I can get under a blanket with my Real Simple and you can be happy to move about as you anxiously watch the Red Sox and Yankees play each other. This is us.

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