The birthday plan was a success. He planned it and I went along singing his song all day.
Avatar was a delight.
"I liked it," was his mantra.
"I had not really wanted to see it," but I was wron, I told G. I’m so glad I went. G’s brother called it predictable, but I certainly didn’t care. I’m the lady who reads predictable books.
We came home from the movie and put on something slightly fancier to go downtown to “Fat City.”
"What are you wearing?" He asked.
"Boring black on black, I said deep into a shelf looking for a chartreuse scarf to brighten up the evening. He wore black and grey.
Mr. Fat died last year from cancer, and his wife died shortly afterwards from a fall. I had my concerns about who was running the place and the quality of the food. I shouldn’t have worried. G wanted to eat there, he loved his steak, and I loved taking part in a San Diego’s Restaurant Week three course meal. Did I mention that our lower quantity eating flew out the window with salad, steak, potatoe with sour cream, and the chocolate mousse pie?
Today it’s back to life. Cards for G on the front door. Swimming at dawn while the sky drops wetness on our heads. He’s back to the kitchen work and I am back to numbering photographs: 0101, 0102, 0103….