What a weekend. Later today I will write a note to the lovely Mrs. H, thanking her for reminding me of who I really am. Mrs. H is amazing. She is beautiful, but not in a classic way. Her beauty comes from within her in an amazing way, and she is a woman of divine class. Her relationship with Mr. H is something to behold and I learn every time I’m around her. Her love for her son is so sacred it’s impossible to describe. She is a triathlete. She has accomplished what I wish I had accomplished, but my body has crapped out on me. She impresses me, she’s got it right. We went to her beach house for a long weekend. We drank like fish, acted stupid, professed plans for World Domination and shopped. Yesterday morning, I watched her come out in her running clothes and strap on her running shoes. I doubt she knows it, but I cried watching her leave. I yearn to run, but my body won’t allow it. I want to strap it on again, and run the reservoir with my dog. On the way home we talked about things that I hadn’t spoke of in at least 20 years. It made my chest hurt, yet, I remembered who I was. For that Mrs. H, I will be forever indebted and in your honor, I will work to never forget again.