Our trip to Africa might have been the best time we ever had. She asked me if I wanted to go, and she said if we don’t go now, we’ll ever go. She said, I’ll pay for it. I said yes. It was in 2011. She had been sober for 8 years. She hadn’t started on her Alzheimer’s course yet. My practice was doing very well. We had built a house in Maui and occupied it, and she had designed a lot of it, and furnished all of it, and that had been, perhaps, her favorite wish. It was a wonderful trip.
I see it again as I watch the wonderful Out of Africa. That might be why I cry. Plus the love story. I’m such a sucker for love stories. My friend Mary Lou asked me today if I’m romantic. I had to say yes, because of course I am. Very, I’m afraid. But I’m also 82. We don’t change that much, but our bodies do, and other things do. We get better at being alone, maybe. Who knows. I barely know about me, how can I know about others.
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