Colin surprised me with a phone call yesterday morning at work. He was calling from his hotel room in Hong Kong.
"What are you doing?" I asked in astonishment, knowing full well the cost of each and every word we spoke.
"I just really wanted to talk to you."
"Are you having a fabulous time?"
"I am," he said. After telling me about his productive day full of meetings and good work, he went on to describe his swanky hotel room--king size bed, two showers (one with a bath, one standing)--all for himself. He had just gotten back from the pool. It was 9 p.m. his time. I had just woken up a couple hours ago.
I told him about the solstice dinner I went to the night before at Becky's. Told him all the gossip he'd missed in just three days. And about the crazy lightning storm we'd had and the subsequent gorgeous Vermont weather we're now having in its wake. That's the thing about Vermont storms in the summer. They break the thick humidity and call on nostalgic, sunny, summer breezes that leave you reminiscing about summers of your youth on the shores of Lake Memphremagog and in the lush, grassy meadows of Shattuck Hill.
It was a lovely phone call--worth every penny. We were both bubbly and talkative. I hung up the phone feeling excited about the weekend to come.
Now it's Saturday morning and I'm heading out of the town to the above-mentioned childhood stomping grounds to stay with my parents for a night and a day. I'm bringing Au Lait with me. I might go canoeing with my dad. I might help my mother in the garden. I might cook up a fabulous summer dinner. I might go for a walk. I might read my book. I might, I might, I might...