There's Always Hope
My father-in-law is quite a character. He’s seen some amazing things since his birth in England in 1918. He’s a gifted story teller and I’ve seen him hold friends, relatives and strangers spellbound recounting his experiences in India, Burma, Egypt and Ethiopia between 1937 and 1944. After the war and a short stint in Canada, he and his family lived in Venezuela for 20 years, which afforded him the ability to travel around the world on vacation with his family. He has many stories of the family’s experiences to share, including many amusing ones about his youngest son, now my husband.
Shortly afterwards, he complemented me on the previous evening’s strawberry pie, a little of which had found of it’s way to the front of his shirt. I was doing a load of laundry and offered to throw it in. As I stood in front of the washing machine, pouring "Resolve" onto the red stain, I noticed something in his pocket. I pulled a narrow strip of paper out and discovered it was from a fortune cookie. It tickled me to think that this sometimes pessimistic and crotchety 93 year old widower had tucked this particular fortune into his pocket for safe keeping.