There is this time at the Chinese restaurant near Jimi Hendrix’s grave that Kate and I are sharing a bowl of chop suey.

She told me to save her the bean sprouts. Now have you ever heard a request like that? I never had, but I had no objection.

I said, “I will save you all my bean sprouts, baby, that’s proof of my being in love.

She said she loved me.

I said, “I know, Princess Leia”

And she laughed. Oh that is Kate in all her glory. Smiles aplenty and cheeks all red; eyes squinted up like staring straight into the sun.

I said, “Kate, one day you are going to realize how beautiful you really are and you are going to leave me for someone much better looking, someone with more money, or a guitar.”

“No. Well maybe,” and she giggles. “But no one will have loved me more.”

It was winter in Seattle and here we were in K-Mart buying wool socks. Wool socks because the apartment had wood floors and our toes turned pink and blue around the edges after spending the whole day barefoot.

I said, “Kate, you know these are going to make our feet itch.”

We were standing in the check out line and I grabbed her hand. A little boy two carts back said, “Mommy, look,” and mommy said, “Love.”

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