I was drinking an extra tall vanilla latte, blinking back the sand in my eyes as Sally came in. A glorious Monday morning, the sun winking off the frosty waves of Lake Superior, the sky a triumphant eggshell blue, the snow glistening under all that grandeur like diamonds. Good thing, too, because I’d stayed up late watching both Casablanca and Pearl Harbor to prepare for our conversation this morning. I knew, after meeting with Sally for three weeks, she took our conversations seriously and wanted to be on my game. She sat down and pulled off her knitted mittens. “I started a notebook from last week, like you suggested.” She pulled out a hardbound journal with a leather cover and handed it to me. I opened it and to my […]
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