Burnt Chocolate Stories

  To help pass the time during the pandemic, I decided to knit my children and grandchildren slippers.   The pattern is an old family favorite.   Sixteen  pairs later, I bought more yarn and switched to living room throws that had been requested.   And in the middle of my third blanket, my wrist started to ache and burn.   Bottom line, I’ve been cut off from my knitting for the next few months due to having given myself a case of tendonitis.   Typing isn’t really a good plan idea either until I’m healed.   So my current plan is to post some of my favorite stories from the past.   Hope you enjoy this one.   Bicycles After Sarah and Barry’s wedding in 1995, Steve and I moved to a small house on Division Street in Chicago, three blocks from our apartment where my motherhood years began. Instead of pushing a pram to Goudy Square, I walked our dog Emma around the neighborhood, rode my bike through the park, shopped on Michigan Avenue. Not much had changed. The Chinese Restaurant where Matt

A couple of weeks ago, Steve drove to Whole Foods, to pick up a few things.  Cherries, milk, cottage cheese. We left the apartment together. I had a yoga class and figured we’d both return home at the same time, around 11. When I got back upstairs, he wasn't there. I checked my ‘find my friends’ app and sure enough, he was still at Whole Foods. Except at noon, Steve still had not returned. My three phone calls had all gone to messages. 12:30, no Steve but the app still had him at Whole Foods. Or was he somewhere else?  Had he lost the phone? Where was the car? At 12:45, I called again, my last ditch effort before bringing in the troops. And miracle, he answered, flustered and annoyed because he’d just spent over an hour looking for the car. “Should I cancel my mahjong game?” I faked a calm and centered tone. “No, I’m fine. I'll be right home.” A bit gruff but not confused. He'd left the phone in the car and the car in the garage on a lower floor than he remembered.