Le sigh. I just drove my best friend to O’Hare so that she can catch her plane to Paris for an international pastry-making competition. I die of jealousy, but I’ve had my turn already, nearly four years ago. It’s her first time traveling internationally, so I’m happy for her. I’ll go back someday, right? Right.
Meantime, I sit in the quiet of my little apartment in the Chicago suburbs as the sky begins to fall in big white chunks – a late winter snow storm that I could do without. I hate the Midwest in March for the hangover-like feeling it leaves on dreary afternoons and its unpredictable swings in climate. It was fifty degrees and sunny only two days ago. I’m ready to bare my legs in a gauzy dress and go without a jacket and feel sun on bare skin and sit outside on my porch late at night.
There are few things in life as romantic as dating your spouse.
Not Heaven someday, when we get there, but right now, right here.
Praise God for transition.
Beautiful words about my favorite city.
Doesn’t this book look like a juicy read?