I blinked, and 40 years go by.

Memories. Leaping vividly into my mind before fading, dissipating like mist. Quickly replaced by others. Different times. Different places. Different friends.
No plans for today. Bacon and eggs. Like most weekends, too many Youtube travel videos. Favourites entrap us into dreaming about what, where, we should go next. Others make us bare our teeth and snarl at creators who are only there to try and make money. They’re failing. Like watching a car wreck, somewhat irrestible, but we hate ourselves after.

It’ll be hard, we’ll talk about it, but we’ll resist the impulse to join our friends in Puerto Vallarta next week. Temptations of cheap air fares. Can we do it on points? Can you get the time? 
Spur of the moment decisions, made on a Saturday just like this, saw us there twice in November last year. 
No matter, we won’t fall prey, we’ll be there anyway in early April.

I’ll cook penne for supper. A favourite. Crispy prosciutto, peas, cream, parmigiana. No dessert, we ate too much cake last night already.

Forty years, a lifetime together. And they said it wouldn’t last.
 
Ah well…