I remembered one thing that amused me today: my dad could never remember my mom's birthday. Oh, he didn't forget it altogether, like some guys. He always thought it was on Valentine's Day. She laughed about it; Dad was a softy, but he tried not to show it. He used to bring her a bouquet of roses until we found out I was allergic to flowers. And he'd bring her a box of candies, usually in a heart-shaped box. She kept one for a long time; it was covered in wine-red velveteen and the interior retained the rich chocolate scent for many weeks after we finished the candy. I used to like to take it out of the drawer and stroke the nap.

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 11:16:00 PM

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