I remember a sort of goofy conversation Karine and I shared some years ago. We were exploring the flour mill ruins on the banks of the Mississippi. The light that afternoon was easy and free and we could hear the sound of the river chugging through the locks beneath us. We were feeling happy together, holding hands, walking through the ruins. It was a fine place to enjoy the late afternoon sunshine.
We entertained each other as we walked with a series of escalating goofs until we were laughing like idiots. I can’t say what it was that we laughed at, except everything. The sunshine sky was funny. The crumbling walls around us were funny. The ground beneath our feet, hilarious.
We wished we had someone to share it with. Just someone to follow us around, walk where we walked, laugh at all of our jokes about nothing, and tell us we were the funniest people alive. We were prepared to pay for this type of service.
And then we realized that we could have all that for free. We just had to have children together. And we laughed at that one for a while too.