Day Eighteen

What She Wore: black capris; sleeveless purple shirt with a cowl neck; black strappy sandals.

Yesterday the Hub and I went and visited our new home with one of his oldest friends who just happens to be contractor. We walked all around, looking in closets, discussing the possibilities, talking about where the furniture would go. The man who owned the house before was seventy-eight and had retired there with his wife eighteen years ago. She passed away several years earlier, and he was moving to a condo to be closer to his children. He was the neighborhood handyman and kept the house in excellent condition. He left a bunch of stuff when he moved out too--mirrors, decorative items, cleaning supplies, trash cans--little clues to the person he was and the life he lived.

While digging through the cabinets I found two bottles of scotch and a bottle of Jack Daniels. They were clearly very old--they had tax stickers on them that none of us had ever seen. We also found one small shot glass. So, we cleaned the shot glass (thanks for the cleaning supplies!), filled it up with Cutty Sark, and said a little toast: To us. To our new life in our new home and to the man who kept and cared for this home for so long.

It was a good moment.