Don't pinch me. Again, I will hurt you if you even pretend.
Today is our Sunday. A lazy fun day, a few chores and mostly a pretend weekend, because weekends are so busy in the life of a minister's family. That's right. It's sounding way more comfortable. Ownership of this life of mine.
So Jacob went out to get bagels. A ritual, they have to be fresh, he is addicted to this Monday routine. And he was gone for an hour and a bit. That happens a lot-he talks his way through the neighborhood. We had some juice and started schoolwork.
He comes back with bagels, croissants, coffee, hot chocolate and a large envelope full of
paperwork. And an anticipatory smile. It threw me off.
Open it.
Oh, do you have to work today?
Just open it, Bridge.
What a strange smile. Brochures fall out. And itineraries. Receipts.
Happy belated birthday.
What is this?
This is your summer vacation.
I spied the destination before he said it. Essaouira. For four people. Two adults, two children. In August.
Oh my God. There's a mini-trip to Casablanca in there.
He doesn't forget a thing. It's unbelievable. He knew I wanted to go there years ago when he went off to Tibet and Bangkok for a trip and I almost cried. Then again he went to Peru (for the second time). Then Chile. Then Spain. He's been everywhere. I have been almost nowhere.
He's not finished.
Keep looking.
What's with all the Tortola stuff?
Christmas. If you want.
I have no use for it now.