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The Red Line Train

After visiting Boston’s Institute of Contemporary Art on a recent Sunday, Peter and I were on the subway to Harvard Square. Sunday is the day that track repair happens on the Red Line, and that Sunday was no different. 

When the train pulled into the Harvard Square Station where we get off, the driver announced, “This is the Red Line train to Braintree” when he should have said “This is the Red Line train to Alewife.”  We knew that meant that the train was turning around three stops early because of track repairs. 

But apparently the announcer needed to drive home his point.  So we heard,

“This is the Red Line train to Braintree.” Pause…“This is the Red Line train to Braintree.”  And once more, “This is the Red Line train to Braintree.”

After the third time I turned to Peter to ask, tongue-in-cheek, “Where is this train going?”

At the same moment, Peter turned to me to ask, “Where is this train going?”  We burst out laughing after the “Where”.  Fellow passengers stared.

Some couples finish each other’s sentences.  We start them.

Have we been married too long?





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I don't think there is such a thing as being married too long if the marriage is a good one.:)

I enjoy the fact that when my husband chuckles over something he reads in the paper, I usually know exactly what absurd turn of phrase or ridiculous statement he is laughing about.

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