He’d built it one summer, with determined hands and failing eyesight. A picnic table for two. Rough-hewn, sturdy—no curlicues or fancy woodworking.

“Silly man,” she said. “We’ll never use it.”

They didn’t; he died that winter.

The next spring, she sat there daily, remembering how much she’d loved him.

As a follow-up to her frivolous and fun career in broadcasting, Sally Basmajian is working on a variety of writing projects. She has won a few prizes for short fiction and creative non-fiction, and has recently completed a beach-worthy women’s novel.