New York City in late October, rainy and dark at six o’clock in the evening. Its a cold breeze blowing and there is a subway beneath the ground roaring beneath my feet. I am winning these days and its a feeling I am definitely not accustomed to. I am heading to meet my wife at a restaurant on the upper west side to celebrate.

These past years have been financially and mentally exhausting – fodder for my stories is the reason I feel I have been thrust through the tunnel of failure over and over.

I walk into the restaurant and I catch a glimpse of her smiling. Nothing as beautiful to me in the world than her smile.

She greets me with a smile and a kiss; we settle in for a conversation.

“So whats next?” She asks me.
“I get to work on editing the short stories they chose.” I answer.
“They have someone to work with you?”
“They have a couple of people I will interview tomorrow and then I will get to work on Monday with her.”
“Oh its a woman? How could I expect anything else?”
“I feel woman have a better feel for my writing – plus I prefer women over men when it comes to working.”
“I hear ya. The kids are very excited for you and so proud.”
“They deserve to share in the rewards – been tough on them these years.”
“They are alright – I am proud of you.” She smiles.
“I am proud of me too.” I smile, “Its been a hell of a ride these past, what?, 15 years or so?”
“It’s in the past now,” She smiles, “looking back it was hard but it was never impossible.”
A waiter brought a pitcher of sangria and poured us each a glass.
“To us.” I said.
“To us.” She said.

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