On the 9-hour trip home from Germany last Friday, I ate, slept and read 3 magazines, one of which was this current issue of AARP. I love their cover stories, and this one on Paul Newman, age 80, was "easy on the eyes" (like Orlando).
But the article that stuck with me was the story of a woman "starting over" after her husband died of pancreatic cancer. One of the evening rituals she most missed was their lifting of their wine glasses to their whispered toast of "I love you."
Ruth, remember all the toasts we've made in our days together this past year: To a great day! To Paris! To Montmartre! To many more birthdays! I like that and don't mean to change a bit of it. But now, with every toast, I want to also add "I love you," as Donica and I are now doing. I'm guessing we can never get too much of it.
I can certainly drink to that!
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