In reviewing the very unsatisfactory week we’ve had recently, my mind flashed back unbidden to days my love and I spent in the park.
The memory was of a time long enough ago that there was no suspicion of dementia and illness.
Burt wanted to take me to a spot where he had been in Central Park on his own. It was by the water in the west 60s or 70s. He was right.
There was something idyllic and magical about sitting in the sheds that jutted out over the lake.
That memory took me to a long long list of happy remembrances.
I am grateful to recall all the good times we shared. Sure, we indulged in a variety of extravagances, but I embraced and cherished the small, simple times.
this is our life 