The single glass of red wine, a red zinfandel, sat on the table before her. Occasionally she would raise it to her lips and savour the deep richness o... its flavour. Like the wine Lyndsay had allowed herself to develop into who she was rather than become available too early, had matured from through a rose to a full red as it were.There was a sound behind her and she felt someone moving closer. But it was now noon and the pub tables were starting to fill for the lunchtime rush. A bottle of Red. I rebuffed their efforts to grow up before their time. I didn't want to let go of my little girls. I was thankful when Anne and I reached a stage in our dealing with each other where we could coordinate our responses, so the girls couldn't play us off one another.Another big adjustment was just getting used to the fact that Annie wasn't there anymore. I missed the sense of companionship. When you've been with someone for fifteen years, they become part of you. You don't realize how much you. More

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