March Forth

There's a sticker in my bathtub and a Thing toy underneath my living room chair, remnants of a rainbow-sprinkle-smile whirlwind that visited us this month.

A new grill has made it's home in the cupboard and our favorite pub down the street invited us in for a pint or two. We beat the pavement downtown, tasting Cuban pastries and the local candy store's finest.

We cheered on dogs and compared chai tea recipes, watched cheesy Korean gangster movies and listened to creepy stories read amidst macabre clowns and Guinness cupcakes.

We celebrated Mr. E on another year; older and possibly wiser, though wise was never his strong suit. Compassionate, eloquent, hard-working and brilliantly funny are more his style.

We debated and cajoled, unraveled and stitched ourselves back together, both sides searching for understanding in the midst of being understood.

The visits are few and far between, citing a myriad of justified excuses (work, money, kids, distance) but enjoyed thoroughly until the very last drop, until, exhausted, we part ways and fall asleep two hours too early on the couch.