Surely, Sunday morning breakfast.
Three hours at least, no phone ringing.
with my husband and son and The New York Times.
A postcard from a friend.
A Christmas card with a snapshot of the kids --twelve, nine, and six.
A Christmas letter with news of travels, loves, and even disappointments.
An e-mail from a wise and beloved friend
"I don't like the sense of 'getting through' one's life as if it were
laundry,
so let's make a resolution that we'll simply opt for pleasure
whenever possible."
A long phone call.
Coffee in a shop where we can sit.
Lunch together.
Absolutely no thought of to do lists.
(published in the Spring issue of the Radcliffe Quarterly, 1998)
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