Well, friends, it's been a year since the light of my life has disappeared from view. I know she's off on some other plane still shining and warming those around her with that smile. But, damn I miss being with her so much -trying out a buzzy new restaurant, or lending a hand with a promising new cookie recipe. Attending a local play or musical and rooting for it to be good. Going to a major league baseball game at a stadium we could check off our bucket list, which is nearing 30 now. Sharing a weekend with my kids and the grandboyz in NJ. Planning and then traveling to exciting and exotic places - Vienna and Budapest a few Christmases ago, Mexico City and Scotland in 2006/7, frequent trips to Canada, New Mexico, and California. And those fun long weekends tooling down to NJ to see her mom Marge (who passed on 4 years ago). We used to take a Friday off each month, pile in the car in the early a.m., then stop at the first gas/food oasis on the Mass turnpike. While I gassed up the car, M would go snag a NYTimes Sunday edition at the convenience store, reading through it while I drove, offering up suggestions of things we could do in the city when we arrived (usually just after lunch). Sometimes it was a must-see art exhibit at the Met or MOMA, or our favorite, the Neue Galerie at 86th and Fifth Avenue which not only has a stellar galleries and bookshop, but sports a genuine, Vienna-grade cafe on the ground floor. We opted for a Neue visit and lunch often! So we'd choose an activity or two and have a great day/evening in M's beloved Manhattan, then head through the Lincoln tunnel to Marge's for our Sat/Sun visit with her. Often, too, Marjorie would park me in a hotel cafe near Times Square, where I'd nurse a Diet Coke, while she hot-footed it over to the discount Broadway TKTS booth to score us seats for something special that evening. She'd call me on my cell and say " Okay, you want Jersey Boys or One Man, Two Guv'nors?" It was magic fun, every time, with my girl. We felt like kids, let loose in the big city. I feel her loss most acutely when I'm there now, just driving through.