My sister and I will visit my daughter on Saturday.  We will stop and pick up lunch in the last shopping area before the miles of cornfields, out where the roads are identified only by letters and numbers. The  Kroger deli, Subway, Pizza Hut, local  Mexican or  Chinese? I’ll let my sister decide. I like them all. My daughter likes them all, too.

I had hoped to take my daughter out to a restaurant in a nearby town, but her behavior has been questionable.

If things change between now and then, and she gets the OK to go out,  we’ll take our carry-out to a park along the river, and have a picnic. Maybe stop for ice cream. I put my foldy chair in the trunk, just in case.

I always try to strike a balance between what really is, and how I ideally would like it to be.  It’s not wishful thinking; it’s being hopeful.

 

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