Last week, a weird thing happened: I worked nights, my husband worked days, and I didn’t see him during the entire workweek. I knew he existed; I packed lunches for him and got occasional texts in between my dreamy catnaps, but the resulting feeling was this surreal half-imagined spouse that magically appeared Friday night, ready for karaoke.
Saturday morning, we forced ourselves out of bed and into the car. We’d planned to go hiking, so we made our way to Aha Falls, about an hour drive from our home.
We swam and jumped off rocks. A few other Americans swung on a rope.
The swimming had made me inexplicably exhausted, and I slept hard the whole drive home as we listened to Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone on Audible. Who could ask for a better day?