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2004-01-18 | 1:04 a.m.

Down in the basement going through things, trying to consolidate boxes and get rid of excess weight. Started reading an old diary and was shocked, shocked to see how much tennis I played in the winter of 1989. I knew I had played tennis, I remember playing it, but I donít remember it being habitual. Yet entry after entry mentions it. Tennis.

I was in love and I wanted him to see that I could do the things he enjoyed. But I was wrong. I was never any good at tennis. And when we went to Tahoe to see my mother, he rented skis for himself and never asked if I would like to ski, too. Thatís how it was with him always and it hurt me. Whenever he imagined his future, whenever he planned his adventures (and there were too many to count), he didnít see me there. I just wasnít ever part of the picture.

Duff isnít like that. He always sees me in his future. Even in the beginning when I first got pregnant with the girls and he was scared to death. Even if we are arguing and I am thinking Iím going to move down to the bayou and you will never hear from me again he is still thinking of me next to him, and how to maximize my retirement fund. Which means a lot to me and makes up for other little hurts.

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