As I was packing for the move last week, I discovered this series of photo booth shots that Todd and I did sixteen years ago. That was back in the time when "photo booth" still meant a little closet you sat inside to have your photo taken on a boardwalk or in an arcade--long before it became a macbook app. It was also back when we lived on whatever food we could scrounge from the restaurant where I cooked and he tended bar. I think there were many days when I considered a pickle my lunch, followed by a stale piece of French bread for dinner. Ah, we were so bohemian. Not really, but we were in love, and later that same year, on this very day, August 6th, we were married. This fall it will be twenty years since we met, and like any couple who has been together for more than a few years, we've weathered our share of storms, but it fills me with joy to say that we are still pretty darn crazy about each other--and we're still the best of friends.
And now we're back in a city we love. Let me share two quick dreams:
Yesterday morning Todd said, "I dreamed early this morning that I was listening to a really beautiful piece of classical music. Then I woke up and realized that the music was really the cry of the seagulls outside our bedroom window."
Just before waking this morning I dreamed that it was winter--one of those special bright winter days when the air is crisp and the whole world looks like it is made out of crystal. I looked out my window and realized that the street was glazed with smooth ice, so I threw on clothes, laced up my skates, and ran gingerly down the stairs. Once outside, I glided onto the ice and skated straight into the center of town, passing other skaters twirling, spinning, and leaping as I whipped past them in my perfect skates. A man called out to me, "Beautiful day, isn't it?"
"Yes," I replied. "It's the best day ever."