When I was a kid, Dad used to rave about the merits of Bertha's during a good snowfall. PEI mussels in a warm broth, Maryland crab soup, warm bread, Irish butter, bone-warming drinks. . .
I tried over the years to capture that moment. Dressed up, dressed down, snow, no snow, carve your name into the booth, or not. . .
It was never as beautiful as he described.
I think because it wasn't mine.
I had mine this evening. . .Ale Mary's to meet a man that wasn't my Husband (no worries C was soon to follow). Window seat, cream of crab soup, stories, watching the snow fall, watching couples leave and throw snowballs at one other. . .Watching my past, present, and future. . .
Maybe what Dad was trying to say was enjoy life? We have a good life? Eat Bertha's Mussels. Eat it all up. Love it.
I've been forgetting the message? Losing sight?
Not for too long. I hope.
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