During a date night dinner last fall, Dana pushed aside a candle,
leaned over the clean, white table cloth and confessed that, earlier in
the day, she had thought of three things to talk to about.
"Just so, you know ..."
And I did. I did know.
"I thought of a few things, too," I whispered back. And we laughed,
shared a toast of wine and conversed about the things we had practiced
conversing about until, inevitably, we slipped back into what has
become a familiar pattern: talking about our daughter.
Read More...