Betty & I met nine years ago today. Who knew? One silly reading group meeting, me being impressive about Hemingway’s portrayal about women in his stories, and then him, very much him then, leaving coyly just as I was about to ask him out.
Our 1st date was two days later. The 2nd two days after that, and two days’ long. The third two days after that. & So on & so forth, till we got to here. (& What a long, strange trip it’s been. But a beautiful one, too.)