Sometimes we have a Friday night free. Not most of the time but sometimes. On those rare occasions we do something a bit out of the ordinary to celebrate. Well, I don’t know if “celebrate” is technically the correct word — it just happens to be my favorite. Celebrations and parties should be a regular part of life.

But I get off topic.

Sometimes we toss water bottles and an assortment of food into a cooler, quickly put swimsuits on, grab our fishing gear and leave our house. We go down to the portion of river that he knows all about — the portion that is never occupied by anyone else and where his small, silver rowboat sits waiting. We quickly jump in to leave the bug infested woods behind and settle in for a few hours of us and the river. It’s peaceful and calm and everything nice.

He fishes while I sit and read on a nearby blanket. Food is eaten, the sun absorbed, and the cool water discovered. And at the end we sit on a rock ledge, our legs dangling, looking down at the deep water beneath us. A bag of cherries sits between us as we take in the beauty.

He turns and asks with a grin, “You wanna be my friend forever?”

“Sure. You wanna have a cherry pit spitting contest?”

Sometimes I’m pretty sure that my life is a country love song. And I like that.