Wednesday, March 13, 2019

Timeless

"Get rid of it" 

"Nope."

"It's ugly."

"Not to me."

"It smells"

"I'll wash it"

"It's ancient"

"It's timeless"

"It's laughable"

"It will come back in style.  You wait."

"Please."

"No."

"Please?"

Silence.  Argument lost.  He turned, smiled and kissed her.  Yep, it was over.  Again.  
"It's just a jacket...." she prodded hopefully.

"MY jacket." he laughed into her hair while hugging her.  He rocked back and forth knowing she hated this.  

She sighed and hugged him back gently patting his back knowing HE hated this.  They laughed at each other and he went out.

In his jacket.

"Be safe.  Love you." she added over her shoulder as always.

"Love you back"  he returned just before the back door clanked shut.

And so went this not-so-big argument every so often and she always lost -good naturedly.  She jokingly told him he'd die under a mound of his own stuff- a true hoarder to which he always claimed a happy sentimentality.  She would put up her hands and surrender, leaving him to be with his memories.  Once in a great while, she sewed a patch or button on the thing; even getting to sneak in a good scrubbing here and there but she kept it.  She had even tried to surprise him with new versions, updated colors or styles, similar fabrics and he had dutifully worn each one once.  He was always faithful to the "one".  She smiled at his devotion in more ways than one.  It truly didn't bother her that much.  She'd simply preferred him to look as amazing as she knew he was. He'd worked so hard all his life.  He deserved only the best.  But he was a simple up-front man.  Liked what he liked.  Did what was right and worked for what he wanted.  In the thirty-four years of marriage they had done their share and now at last they could slow, take it easy and enjoy things and she just guessed that he enjoyed that damn jacket.

So really there was no fight.  He deserved what he wanted - not just what she wanted for him.  

She heard the car door and stepped out on the porch, drying her hands on a towel.

"Where to?" she hollered.

"Hardware!" and he raised the latest sale mailer giving her a childish thumbs up and cheesy grin. He sat in the seat and started up his truck knowing he would return with something silly.

She laughed and waved the towel.  "In time for supper?"

"What're we havin?"

"Grilled ham, corn and beans- and cobbler."

"Oooo with crumblies?" his eyebrows went up.

"You know it big daddy."

He revved the engine and gripped the wheel as if he were driving 90 miles an hour.

She laughed at him and waved the towel like a street car race.  Turning, she headed back in and began to cook for the next couple of days since they would be busy with visits and friends and their meetings and … how were they just as busy or busier than when they worked every day?  This caused her to stop and think about it while watching the birds at the feeder.  After what felt like a few seconds she redirected herself to her chores and cooking.  She didn't realize how late it was until the sun dipped down into the trees and shone in her eyes through the kitchen.  Dinner was done.  It had been done.  He was late.  She walked to the doorway and flipped on the porch light.  She screamed realizing two men were standing on the porch about to ring the bell.  She quickly reached to lock the screen.

"Now we don't want to buy anything and you better git before my husband..."

"Ma'am. Mrs. McKinney?"

"May I help you?" her voice was icy and tight.  She didn't realize she had wound the towel in her hand like she intended to rat tail them.

"Mrs. McKinney?"

"yes." she was going numb. Her voice was barely audible.

"Your husband...
accident....
come with us…
hospital.."

so many details she missed in that instant because her heart flooded, her knees buckled as she gasped for air.

"Is he..." she choked through her fingers that tried to keep those awful words from seeping out.

"Please come." 

And she was suddenly there.  Like a dream.  A nightmare actually.

He was wired for sound.  He was bruised and bloody.  There were bandages and blankets and just so many...things and people around him she wondered how she would reach him.  She thought of those scary movies where the hallway gets longer as you try to reach the end.  She was afraid to go to him for that very reason.  He might go away from her.  There were beeping machines and strangers in comfy scrubs all around and everywhere.  Words were spoken but they sounded like they were coming through cotton.  She couldn't hear or understand.  She needed to sit near him.  She needed to talk with him and get a game plan.  That is what they did.  That is what they always did.

"No."

She turned slowly as if the word were foreign.

"Get better?" 


"No."


"Can't come home?"

"We don't think he's strong enough for the trip."

Each word was a punch to her chest.  She closed her eyes and chewed her lip.

"You will need to call family..."

And they came.  She gave them all time to say goodbye.  Privately.  There were jokes and stories remembered of their lives that were marvelous because he touched their hearts.  She fought the screaming in her head.  She struggled not to punch everyone who got to walk out of that room and return to their loves, their families and friends.  

At last, she approached his bed and slipped her hand in his.  She called the tubes that tried to wrap around her finger a bunch of fuckers and wanted to rip them all out, cut them to shreds and  light them afire.  She hated this place.

"It's not time." she said softly and she stayed asking him for help he couldn't give.  She scolded him for this.  For missing cobbler with crumblies.  She told him she was very angry that he was leaving this way and that she thought he was being cowardly.  She fell asleep leaning into his bed, her head against his.  She pretended the soft wheeze of the machines that were breathing for him was his adorable snore she slept with every night.  At first, she thought it was a dream.  His hand jerked a bit and he groaned.  She sat bolt upright and looked into his handsome but battered face.

"Home." he whispered.

And she got up, went to the desk and demanded they unplug everything.  She informed them he was going home.  They huffed and puffed, shoved waivers and papers and AMAs up her nose until she thought she was going to have to judo chop each and every one of them.  But she took him home.  He DID make the trip.  In her hopeful heart, she thought he'd get better.  No one ever said yes.  

But she got him a bed and each day she sat next to him.  She talked and went about her chores.  She read to him and held his hand.  She went through the sale mailers and talked about the good and bad deals and found herself finding things he would buy that they didn't need.  He didn't leave her but he wouldn't come back.

One night she ordered pizza and went to him.

Scootch. she grumped, crawling in next to him.  She watched their favorite shows on the DVR and fell asleep curled around him.  Some time later, she thought she felt him shift in bed.  But that wasn't possible.  She told herself she was dreaming.

"Hon?" She thought she heard.

"How ya feelin? " she asked sleepily.  It was dark and she couldn't see him but knew where he was of course.

"Tired.  So very tired."

"Well, you look awful"

"Thanks."

"Why won't you get better?"

"Can't.  I just can't."

"But I want you here with me."

"I'm so tired Babe."

"Stay?" her tears were steady and hot. She was trembling in this dream. "I just want to love you a little longer.  This hurts too much.  Too deep." she explained.  Her body protectively shifted to hold him in the night.  She whispered all her love and greatest joys to him.  Her chest ached and her head pulsed from trying to cover up her breaking heart.  "I'm cold...hang on..." and she reached for her sweater.  Funny. She always kept it close to the bed.  After a little more groping, she finally found it, wrapping around herself and snuggling next to him.

"Can you wait for me at least?  Don't go shackin up with the first beautiful young angel you find up there..." This was accompanied by a scornful "hmph"

Silence.

The pain in her chest told her everything.  She had lost her better half. "ohhhh honey..." she cried.  It was too much to think about.  Too painful.  She winced against the headache.  A long sigh escaped her; one that was filled with a lifetime of love and laughter.  The aneurysm was massive and devastating.

At last she slept.

They were discovered the next morning when the comfort care nurse arrived. She was wearing his jacket.  His arms were around her. They were still together ~ their love was truly timeless.


And hello my friends.  This one was a real tear jerker for me.  I let it sit for a couple of days before I was happy enough to let it go.  I hope you like it.  Not for the sadness but more for the great love.  I'm all about them.  Great loves.  Hope you have one and hug them.  Until next time.  Thanks for stopping by.  It was a nice visit.



Saturday, March 2, 2019

Feathers in the wind

She toddled and got lost in the crispness, newness that was spring.  Cottonwood trees bloomed and fluttered as the wind pushed them through the sky like snow.  She laughed and tried to catch them calling them feathers.  She said it looked like Mother Nature and Old Man Winter had had a pillow fight over what season was really ending or beginning.    It also meant more time at the lake.  Her favorite place where she could play in the creek, chase frogs and newts or float in the sun as the water softly clapped against the shore for her arrival or cried tiny white caps when she left.  Crawdads were safe and turtles could rest on their logs undisturbed.  Her young years were spent laughing, squealing and loving everything shown to her. "But where do you go?" she asked the billowing cottonwood ~ there was a breezy laugh and that was all..

When her teen years arrived, feelings were very different.  Dread.  Boredom. There was no internet and she felt alone.  She missed her friends and hated getting muddy or hauling wood for the bonfires with a family that didn't know anything about her.  She jealously despised that her friends were out partying or dating or sneaking out and she was stuck on this porch while the cottonwood trees bloomed and blew all over, getting in her hair or coating the table and chairs, giving her ANOTHER thing to have to wipe down.  It was Hell on Earth. The lake retreated and sat quietly not understanding why her heart was so closed to it.  It wanted to play as before.  "How can I get out of here?" she begged the tiny feathers.  The lake sighed in the night, waiting and hoping for better days

And they came as she returned a young woman bringing a daughter of her own to share the "spring snow" and marvel over how things had changed yet remained the same.  She once again rolled up her jeans and caught frogs and newts, chased minnows or laid quietly while the feathers drifted lazily by, welcoming her back in more than one sense. Her daughter slept peacefully in the sun. She remembered how good life was ~ simply.

Slowly she moved, her old bones complaining for the car ride and the age that she couldn't outrun.  She no longer got in the lake but stayed on the porch and watched as her children and grandchildren swam, floated along in the boats or stirred the bonfire.  She laughed to hear the squealing after actually capturing a frog or a turtle that nipped a toe and had gotten away.  She blinked up into the sun as the cottonwood tickled her wrinkled face and whispered to her to come along.

Grey clouds.  Wet and raw.  The trees sagged sadly and the cottonwood seemed only to drop in messy globs.  The lake was like glass as if it were in shock.  She would no longer come.

Her soul had become like the cottonwood she loved ~ a feather in the wind.



Hello my friends.  This is a quickie but one I loved dashing out.  Growing up we had cottonwood trees on our property and I loved it when they bloomed and littered the grass.  Combined with my favorite place ~ Promises? ahhhh how could I not.... I hope you enjoyed our time, no matter how brief.  Come back again and sit a spell.  We get along so nicely.

until next time... 

The Lady with the Lantern

 When the fire gets low and the voices quiet, she always comes up.  The lady with the lantern.  Now the stories often vary: She lost her bab...