The Writer came in this weekend for “last call” for the San Antonio Marathon.

Because she & I were really tired yesterday, we opted to go out for our pasta party rather than put together the lasagna that Queen Mum left for us for our dinner.We invited hub, the Writer’s dad, and her youngest sister & her husband. And their darling one week old daughter.

The meal was good. The conversation centered around the baby, of course. There was, unfortunately, one part of the conversation that became painful for me and I just didn’t know what to do, other than sit and endure.


Youngest sister and Writer traded tales about the how they decided on the colors of the strollers they purchased for their daughters.

Youngest sister wanted pink but settled on purple & gray.

The Writer chose blue.

A stab of pain pierced my soul as I thought about the little baby boy we were “thisclose” to adopting this past May.

Neither of them asked me what I was thinking.

I was remembering.

All of the excitement Hub & I shared just a short five months ago when we started picking out the items we were going to buy in anticipation of our little arrival.

And the color of the stroller we chose.

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