Okay, I need to stop. Seriously. If I don’t put myself in check, I could easily continue my Costello stories for the next few days, weeks, months, years.
I could tell you about the 10 times he’s helped me move. I could tell you about when I was accepted into the Foreign Service and he said, “They’re helping you move, right? Cause I’m not doing it.”
I could tell you about the time my car broke down on I-20 about two and a half hours outside of Atlanta and he rearranged his schedule to come get me.
Or, the OTHER time my car broke down and he drove me across town so I could attend a dinner in honor of my Niece/God Daughter Kiersten.
The time he attended my graduation…
Or, when he showed up 10 hours early to my parent’s lake house the day of my wedding… the wedding that Serena and I planned ourselves… and without being asked, Costello took the helm and began stage managing our big day so we didn’t have to worry about the caterers, photographers, musicians… or anything. And you know what? We didn’t worry about anything… everything went off without a hitch… and that was thanks to Costello.
No, even if I told you all of those stories you would ever fully understand the bond that Costello and I have. Except for maybe this one story… the one about the R&R Ticket.
In a nut shell… Costello is R&R ticket worthy.
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