Why We Work

I look over from where I'm working on the computer to where Katie is sitting at the table in our living room prepping materials for her business creating sculptures made of butterflies. There's light from the window next to her, putting her in silhouette.

"Thank you," I say, and she looks up, confused.

"I never expected to have any money," I explain, "like ever, so the fact that we have enough money to live here and do things, it's just awesome."

West Side Story

After the movie we walk the west side of the park toward home, strolling in that blissful clarity that often comes after a really good film, like you’re in your own movie, everything in focus and magically lit. The snow and the streetlights help, too, and the warm light from the brownstone windows glowing contentedly out into the cold night air. 

Katie asks, “Is it hand-holding time?” which of course it is, almost always. It’s just a moment, the two of us together, her small hand in mine, walking down the sidewalk, forever.