And so I did.
We left on Saturday morning and he drove. I had guessed where he was taking me, to a place he went to as a child, a place he had been to a year ago but without joy. A place he wanted to experience again, experience together, experience the fun. It was great to talk during the drive, and to enjoy the silence, too. We arrived late morning on the most beautiful of all Saturdays. We walked the streets of the historic town. We browsed the shops and ate lunch on the patio. He held my hand and laughed with me. We walked and walked and with each step we grew closer. The memories he had of the place returned with the same joy.
We wandered around the largest Christmas store in the country. We talked about the holiday, of the importance of faith in our lives, in our children. It was amazing what conversations arose from looking at thousands of ornaments. Do you play an instrument? Have you always lived in this state? Do you decorate with white lights or colored? Nothing of such remarkably signficance, but all pieces of a puzzle that seems to be coming together too easily.
He challenged me to mini-golf, a choice he now regrets. I tried to warn him. I tried to tell him. But he's a competitor, too. He had to learn the hard way. (I tried. I even played the back 9 left-handed.)He indulged me at the outlet mall. I only wanted to browse Pottery Barn. Even though shopping isn't his thing, he indulged me and ungrudgingly followed me into a half dozen stores.
We didn't stay the night. We decided it was early enough to come back home. We stopped by his aunt's to pick up his dog and then went out for the night to celebrate his birthday in style.
The day was so casual, so beautiful, so unremarkable that it was, well, remarkable. Thanks, TB, for a gorgeous day away with a great companion.