Buck was already reading in bed when I came in with a new book to join him. Something about his face in the light was so dear, I put my hand on his propped up knee and leaned in to get a better look. He fixed me with those steady green eyes that see it all.
Buck: “I love to be in your presence.”
Me: “I’m glad we’re together all the time.”
Buck: “Yes,” in his low rumble that draws the word out. His eyes never leave my face.
Me: “We’ll never have enough time,” not realizing I have spoken the thought out loud.
Buck: “No, we won’t. We’ll have to find a way to make it a celebration instead of being sad.”
He patted my hand and went back to reading. I fluffed up my pillows and opened my new book.
The photo is from 1990, taken at an old blueberry farm in Machias, Maine, where we were staying for two weeks in a celebration trip after selling my business, Aladdin Communications, to some nice fellows from New York City.