A Short Tale
He sipped his beer, a locally brewed IPA, and then set the mug down. “I came to Ashland for love in 1972. I’d met this woman in Ohio. She lived here. So I followed her here.”
“Did you marry her?”
“No. We were together for ten years. Then she moved out and we moved on. She lives in Tacoma now. Married, with children.” He smiled toward the wall. “We remain on good terms. We talk to one another on the phone. Once in a while.”
Love Is
Love is
a line in the dirt
wind blown
drying up
buried as time scratches over its mark
forgotten underfoot
uncovered and made again
Together Again
It’s funny, but sometimes when I post or share something humorous or sad on Facebook, the same two people react to it. They always react the same way. It’s memorable to me because they were married for a decade and then had an acrimonious divorce. I was so sad to see them part. They’d been one of my favorite couples.
Now they won’t speak to one another, and I can’t enjoy the company of the two of them together. Except there they are, on Facebook, together again, laughing, shocked, angry, and crying through emoticons.
Variation
They’d been doing together since they were wed forty-two years ago. “Everything that we can do together, I mean, of course.” She felt some things weren’t possible, “But we tried to do everything together. We were never apart from one another for more than a day or two, maybe three, tops.” She’d been a nurse, but was now retired; he’d been, and was, a doctor.
Travel was required for her to visit her father. “Dad’s really well for ninety-three. It’s easy to forget he’s ninety-three because he looks so good and does so well. But he is ninety-three, so I worry about him. Especially since he’s down there and I’m up here. He’s a retired engineer, and very particular about his habits. Everything must be done certain ways. He eats the same foods for the same meals at the same times every day, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. There’s no variation.”
But this was about her husband. “He didn’t want to go with me to Southern California. Dad always watches Fox News. He’s completely apolitical, he’s not a Trump supporter, doesn’t have a MAGA hat, or anything like that, but he watches Fox News all day long. Henry just didn’t want to go, and cited that as part of the reason. So I flew down there alone.
“I’d been down there for a week when I received a phone call from Henry. He was frantic.”
“I’m out of clean underwear,” he said.
“Well, wash some.”
“I would, but I don’t know where the detergent goes.”
“It goes in the drawer.”
“I can’t find the drawer.”
“When I thought about it, I realized that it was the longest that we’d ever been apart.”
When she returned, she discovered his clothes in the washer. They were moldy, wrinkled and almost dry. She thinks that Henry just tossed the soap on top of the clothes, wasn’t satisfied with the process, and just quit.
They haven’t spoken about it, yet, but he does have some new underwear.
Oh
oh, you pain me
and you give me joy
and, oh, you make me so happy that I can’t believe my luck
oh, you make me so angry that I could spit nails
and oh so sad that I cry hot tears in the car
and have secret conversations with you in my head
(that’s what makes them secret)
oh, your beauty and intelligence amazes me
and your kindness and sweetness inspires me
and no one could ever have a better friend
but oh, your obstinance and rigidity frustrates me
and oh, how your complaints wear me out
and your drinking and habits enervate me
which shows the truth:
love can’t be spelled without oh
Melanfloofy
Melanfloofy (floofinition) – An animal who expresses a state of sadness without discernible or apparent reason.
In use: “The big golden red retriever seemed melanfloofy, showing little interest in going for a walk, which was definitely abnormal. Head resting on his front paws, he settled in his bed and stared out the front window for most of the morning. Then a cat walked up and peered in. Tail thumping his bed, Red leaped up. Melissa concluded, my dog is in love with a cat.”
Sunday’s Theme Music
I encountered a friend on the street. He was coming out of a store and I was walking by. Eighty years old, his wife is two years younger. She’s having medical issues.
Married for fifty years, his only spouse, he seemed like he was going through the process of thinking about life without her. They’ve downsized their home twice in the last eight years, but her mobility is going, as is her vision and her mental acuity. In his words, “It all seems to be falling apart for her.”
Sad, and an often heard story. I commiserated with him, but what struck me was his comments about being nothing without her. He said, in his thinking, everything that he’d done after getting his college degree was about her, and then their family that they created, and their life together. It was his constant motivation.
After we parted and I thought more about what he’d said, “Bring Me to Life” by Evanescence (1995) slipped into the stream, a song about being nothing without another.
Floofmencement
Floofmencement (floofinition) – An act, instance, or time of beginning an experience with, or engaging with, an animal.
In use: “With many people, floofmencement began with looking into an animal’s eyes. From in there, people grasped love, pain, sadness, hope, among other emotions, and took it on themselves to be with and help this creature.”
Michael Seidel, writer 