And so we started counting down the days.
“We’re almost February, and I’ll be there in April. Weekends don’t count, you have too much fun to even consider time. One week you’ll be in France, and I’ll be in San Francisco. That’s another week off the list. Holidays pass by quickly. Everyone knows time passes twice as quick in New York, so when you’re there we’ll knock another two weeks off. And then there are the days when you’re hungover, all you do is sleep those days away anyway. That’s another five off.“ I stared at him. In all his simplicity he was trying hard to make time race faster than it could.
“See, Kay,” he said, “we’ve only got to get through a single month apart.”
All I could do was smile. He had turned 82 days into 30 in his own genius way. Reassured, I knew I’d make it through the winter.