One year, eight months, 16 days
I've been a widow now for one year, eight months, and sixteen days. Twenty months and two weeks, if you call it by the way...
This is the view from my regular chair in the dentist’s office. It’s a pretty view, but I think they only put people who are afraid of going there in this room. It’s been “my” room since I started going to this dentist in… er… 1993? About a year before I got married the first time. Isn’t that funny? My relationship with this dentist office (tenuous, rocky, mildly antagonistic) has lasted about three times longer than my first marriage.
It’s a pretty view. I just don’t like seeing it. And we may change dentists soon, so this may be the last time I see it.