#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Charles River Reflection

Today, after my walk, after taking and posting these pictures, after two hours of talking in phone conferences, my husband waves to me for attention, for lunch. Will I join him for lunch? Yes, I nod, raise 10 fingers for minutes. He agrees, disappears. It's fifteen or twenty fingers I should have asked for. He returns, asks, should he go without me? Five fingers, it's all I'm asking. He disappears. Is he waiting in his office? I hang up, go looking for him, hoping he has waited, not left for lunch without me. 

He's there, at his desk, waiting, patiently. So we can go out on a Tuesday, October, to lunch. See now? In the morning pictured, below, the green lane going brown, leaf littered, through the meadow going into the gold light? 

We find a corner, quiet, a booth, leather, light, soft, we have no small talk. We're in the lane, lasting and changing and being. We're growing patient and we're gazing off into a distance, the same direction.