My daughter and I had just ordered to-die-for hot chocolate in the Geneva tea room...hers was called Kama Sutra and mine Lapone Italianne and came complete with raspberries. Under the whipped cream, it was necessary to eat the thick chocolate with a spoon.
Around us people nibbled on pastries worthy of any gourmet magazine photographer, and from their smiles, the taste must have matched the beauty. People chatted in French, English and other languages.
An elderly man used his umbrella as support to pick up one of the newspapers in a rack that patrons could read. He dropped a paper, and one of the waiters swooped in to hand it to him.
My daughter and I have never been at a loss of topics to discuss, but this discussion turned serious when we reviewed a major problem that had existed between the two of us about four years ago. Because we have had so few disputes in our lives, we are not good at them and this one I handled badly...very badly.
"I missed you during that time," I told her.
She nodded. "I kept hoping you would grow out of it," she told me.
Now that's a role reversal, I am not sure I WANT to admit to, but I WILL.
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