Tonite I took a break from the sea of photos I’m currently swimming in and went to our favorite restaurant, Roots. I sat at the chef’s bar, in the exact place Walter and I sat when last we were there. I wrote him a card, the perfect one I found earlier today at New Seasons, and wrote his name on the envelope – keenly aware that it felt strange. It’s been a long time since I’ve written Walter’s name on an envelope. As I spent the next two hours telling him everything I miss (every inch and nuance of him, to be exact), I let myself think of him in ways I haven’t since he’s been gone; it hurts too much. But tonite it was joyous somehow, and it made me smile (as I was sitting there alone). I caught at least one of the cooks eyeing me a little curiously. Later, after I’d retrieved our babes and gotten them home and into bed, I went out into the backyard, read the card aloud (quietly; not fishing for more strange looks), then came back in and burned it in the fireplace. I like to think he gets to peek in on nights like this. I hope so.

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