I SO long for the days when my conversations turn from “let’s touch base next week” and “did Hendrix poop this morning?” to “I can’t believe we drank that entire bottle” and “do I look burnt to you?”
The excitement is ridiculous.
As the months have turned into weeks, I’ve envisioned the entire trip in my mind. The smelly guy I ended up sitting next to on the plane to Paris because they couldn’t seat us together, Sonja’s complaints of a meat-laced meal, the euphoric feeling of our first night sipping wine on a patio. The beaches, the art, the shopping, the heat, and the tears (or sighs of relief) as Sonja and I part in Frankfurt.