Once upon a time there was a lazy Sunday in May, seventy-eight degrees, a carrot-infused bloody mary, a roasted beet and honey salad, lavender scones, and three perfect hours with my childhood best friend.
Then there was a closet shelf of just the perfect size to become a shrine to Chanel … the perfect pumps with the baby soft lambskin soles in nearly perfect condition.
And there were bacon jam samples at the deli where I stopped to pick up frommage D’affinois.
My family was healthy.
My heart was full.
And for that day, life was better than I even dare to hope for.