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It’s this simple stuff, this walking through the grocery store like we don’t care. This walking skipping frolicking through aisles one through twelve. It’s the four of us this evening, the four of us at this store. There only are four of us now. But I also mean it like, there are happily four of us, now. I’m a realist and an idealist, neither regrettably so.

The four, it’s not the way we were before, an amorphous group altogether, inch deep and loosely linked. No, this is a network, a web of interrelationship, woven, stitched, boldly interdependent. We are phone dates and road trips, Tuesday afternoon lunches. We are I just called to see what you thought, and Are you still coming over at three?

We are only four from more, but far better; we are not only four, we are so much more.