Mr. Fun & Rosie lost in the Magazines

I arrived home late this afternoon. Thursday is date night, but we had no particular plans. The phone rang once and we learned a friend had been admitted to a hospital in Riverside so we were soon on a crowded freeway headed east. We stopped for a delicious Italian dinner, then on to the hospital, and concluded the evening with a stop at the Barnes & Noble Bookstore.

We wandered toward the magazine section. I wanted to see the latest edition of Time and Mr. Fun got sucked toward the newest flashiest sports car journals. He's loved Formula 1 racing since he was a boy. As I watched him browse through those magazines--while he showed me one photo page after another, speaking intricate details and vital statistics--I realized he'd traveled back to the years of wonder -- dreaming and thinking and wishing and drooling about cars . . . fast, sleek, shiny cars. As he spoke, I nonchalantly lifted my camera, focused, and clicked the glossy page.

Then quietly I stood, walked a short distance, aimed the camera, and captured Mr. Fun in a moment lost in wonder, amazement, and joyous nostalgia. A moment when he was a boy again in a grown-up body. Looking closely reveals that Rosie got caught in the reflection as well--quite fitting after several days of self-portraits.

When I married him, without knowing it, I had said "I do" to Formula 1. With an ease I'd never known in classroom studies, I learned the drivers' names, their car numbers, and which race was next in the series. I became one of the boys in his group of young friends who all loved and idealized racing.

Tonight in that bookstore, if only for a minute, we were kids again lost in our world of memories and the wonder, glamour, and riches of high powered racing machines.

That's our first Thursday evening in April.
Good night from Southern California,
Rosie & Mr. Fun, aka Carol