“Any news from upstate?” Peter asks. It’s dinnertime and that’s the question he repeats over and over during our meals.
“No,” I say.
We listen to the evening news while we eat, me grumbling at the goings-on in Washington, Peter listening carefully to the weather report.
“Any news from upstate?” he asks again.
I start to shake my head, but instead, decide to try a different response. “No,” I tell him, “but Leslie and Martin spent the weekend at the river.”
“Really? In this…?” he asks. He nods his head towards the fog outside, the rain-streaked window. “What did they do?”
I laugh. “We were there, too,” I say. I’d hoped he might remember the two days, the cozy fires, the good food, log-wrangling with Martin, Leslie and me laughing hysterically over nothing at all.
He shakes his head disgustedly, but recovers with his usual line, “Oh, well, that was a long time ago. I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast.”
I nod, laugh, frown.
Laughter in the face of reality is one of the finest sounds there is. In fact, a good time to laugh is any time there is.” Linda Ellerbee
Header photo: Foggy weekend at the river.