Last night our television was in the shop (yes, it actually is possible to fix a modern wide-screen TV, we discovered). Joyce and I listened to the news on NPR, as we did as a young couple when I was in graduate school and didn’t have a functioning TV.
We cooked dinner together without either of us asking the other to help. Our granddaughter, Emily, chipped in without prompting. We ate a pleasant meal – all of us – sitting around the table and discussing the day, minus the usual blare of the evening news.
After dinner, we tidied up the kitchen, without anyone drifting into the family room to watch Wheel of Fortune. Emily went upstairs to watch a movie with Papa John (her step-dad, our son-in-law) on the “little TV.” Joyce and I sat on the screen porch, enjoying a glass of wine along with each other’s company.
Later, with Emily bathed and tucked safely in bed, Joyce and I read for awhile, then went to bed early.
“What a pleasant evening,” I sighed.
Joyce nodded in agreement.
“Yes, we should do that more often,” she said, a bit wistfully. Then a slight frown clouded her face.
“If they don’t call in the morning to say our TV is ready, make sure you call them,” she said.
“Yes, dear,” I said.