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The Day I Let Go of the Past W H A T W A S T H E H A P P I E S T M O M E N T O F Y O U R L I F E ? F O R D E B R A G W A R T N E Y, W I N N E R O F O U R 2 0 1 8 G O O D R E A D E S S AY C O N T E S T, I T W A S A
G U I L L E FA I N G O L D / STO C K SY
P I C N I C W H E R E S H E S A W H E R A D U LT D A U G H T E R S I N A W H O L E N E W L I G H T.
I N S I DE T H E P I C N IC BA S K E T: two ripe peaches still moist from a rinse, a bowl of cherry tomatoes, small pots of spicy pâtés, a block of cheese, and a still-warm baguette. I carried this basket of food, purchased at the garden’s entrance, to a sundappled table while one of my daughters brought out a bottle of chilled rosé, perfectly suited for a summer day in the shade of a medieval fortress called Abbaye SaintAndré. My three other daughters arranged plates, opened tins, and handed out napkins, a symphony of cooperation. I sat back and watched them, my children, as they ate and drank and laughed under the olive trees outside Avignon, France, resting their feet after our long walk, murmuring in smooth, pleased voices, unfolding a map to plot the rest of our afternoon. I dared not move, wanting to absorb this scene, sear it into memory. A café server wandered out and
APRIL 2018 REAL SIMPLE
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