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The Picture On My Desktop

It's a shot of my 15-year-old son and my hubby, just about to savor sundaes last fall at a classic ice-cream parlor in Massachusetts.

My son has an amused, appreciative grin on his face as he looks at me, and his hand holds a spoon that is poised over a big bowl of chocolate ice cream drenched in hot fudge sauce. He looks like a young man, no longer a child. I love the sweet natural smile of simple enjoyment -- free of school and homework!

Hubby looks cheerful and content, and his wedding-ring hand is resting on the marble-topped table, next to a marshmallow-sauce-covered monstrosity made of the bizarre combinations of flavors and toppings he likes (and my son and I think are disgusting). He still looks young and handsome after 22 years of marriage.

My sundae (chocolate, as always, with hot fudge and marshmallow sauces and chocolate jimmies) waits on the table. Typically, I am the family historian, capturing the moment.

My desktop has cycled through photos of the Red Sox winning the World Series (in '04 and '07), Walden Pond, and others I can't recall. But this one is a keeper.

They're my guys.

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