Every time I hear Norah Jones, I’m hear Joey snoring softly in the back on my MINI, dusk falling around us as we drive back from Somernites Cruise on US 127 from Danville.
The sun’s gone down on a perfect day, and Whitney’s looking at me every so often with so much love in her eyes, I just want to cry. She doesn’t know I see her looking. And that’s okay.
* * *
It’s that time of the winter when you never know if you’ll know warmth again. That memory keeps me warm, as it has for many years since.