Monday was our forty-sixth wedding anniversary. Unbelievable. Not unbelievable that we are still married, but unbelievable how fast it’s gone.
On Sunday we celebrated. Instead of making a day of the Sunday papers, we ventured downtown to the Boston Arts Festival in Copley Square. A torrential downpour as we arrived only made it better because we sought shelter in the colonnade of Trinity Church. The young performers from the Boston Conservatory’s musical theatre dance program were waiting out the rain there too. We got to chat with them as they stretched and hopped around on the church portico. Once the weather cleared, these Broadway-bound kids wowed us (and lots of other soggy spectators) with their performance on the festival stage.
Then we headed across Copley Square to Old South Church’s beautiful sanctuary to listen to a concert by the Boston Landmarks Orchestra. All of this free, a summer gift to the citizens of Boston.
We opted to skip a fancy dinner out for fish and just-picked corn at home, preceded by our favorite aged Gouda and Pinot Grigio. It was perfect.
Peter and I are grateful for our good luck in finding each other and our wisdom in appreciating what we have together. Three days into it, chances are that we’ll make it to forty-seven.