Shannon and I are rereading Love in a Time of Cholera. The only time we have for doing this is when we take trips in the car, running here or there: to the grocery store, to the fair, home from the fair in the dark, when the children are asleep in their car-seats. She does the reading, and I like hearing her voice articulate the lives and loves of these characters, especially because, we think, that could’ve been us. We don’t think this in any overly romantic sense. We just know that not all loves are equal, and that our fates can get confused, thwarted, and so luck plays a greater part in our coming together than we like to admit. We are lucky, incredibly lucky, and every day is a chance to be reminded of that fact.
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