VERANDA.TIME

Somtimes, we just sit down and remain silent and sip our wine of the evening...tonight, it is a very good Cabernet Sauvignon.  We are kindred spirits in that we know how each feels without being told.  That is a wonderful extra in a marriage.  To illustrate, I suddenly said "Me too"...She knew what I meant and said nothing verbally.    Blythe set her wine glass down and stretched her legs out and rested her feet on an ottoman.  "Bob, I am so blessed to be your wife...I can tell you anything and you understand somehow....we have had occasions where we miffed each other, and yet, we felt hurt for only a second....foregiveness and understanding are so precious....Bob, I have lived here all of my life, first as a child, then as a teen going to school after school....I can still see Mom out there in the garden...I can still see Daddy tinkering with his Pontiac and mumbling to himself.. I can see us all around the Christmas Tree....it was so special.  Bob, this house is not really me....I have kept this because of the memories it gives back to me....Only since I have met you, have I realized for the first time that I am me...that I need to be true to me...and you....I don't think this house is you either....Life has been such a whirlwind lately..so much to think and wonder about....I am tired of busy....I now am thinking about resigning my position with the Bee and doing........"    She did not finish her thought.  Maybe she was tired of doing and wanted being.  I continued on with her thought as it was mine as well.   "Yes, I am there too...flying in all directions....I decided to open a new practice because it was the only trade I knew....neither of us has to work...but I fear a life that does not include work..an occupation.  It is not me to try retirement...I can't imagine retirement where all you do is travel, indulge fantisies that are dead inside....golf..I hate the game...all the hoopla about knocking a little white ball into a hole...all the hoopla about these pre-madonnas who wipe their ass with Rose Petals...commentators blabbing, ..cameras focusing in on a long take of the pro as he stands there after a drive...great view of the angle of his crack...his twisted leg.(reminds me of a manequin designed by Twisted Sister)....the intense stare on his face..hearing the fans yell the most imaginative comments like get in the hole. News is out that Davididerm Lovvett the third...get that..the third....I hope they stop soon as it would do wonders for the gene pool  ..well,  he has a new coach and has been told to angle his crack to about 45 degrees and do a pelvic thrust in the middle of his down swing....this will give more meaning to "Get in the Hole...Anyway"  This would allow the commentators to say  "Yes,  the angle of his crack in  juxtaposition to his back gives him more smack.  The foreward momentum of his balls extends where it falls ...the ball I mean when it lands on the green.    I am waiting to see what Liston Titt from Germany who is ranked 1,013 in World ranking, will name a new golf ball he is bringing on stream.  He wants to go head to head with Titleist.  Can you imagine....its the Masters and the camera pans those blessed souls who wear a cap with  Titleist"  on it...How honored can one be?  And then a new man steps to the tee and his cap says ..TITT LIST...I would play golf if I could wear a cap like that."      Blythe was doubled over with laughing.  I continued on, "I am one confused man...I opened this new practice and now I don't give a damn about it.  For years I have heard people pour out their problems and I have had to say just the right things to try and change their view on things.  I hate it, Blythe.  Then I went silent and Blythe began again:  "Bob, I have had the strangest emotions and perceptions during times of sickness..maybe the flu when I had a high fever..sometimes at night, I got up and just stared outside..the World asleep..maybe a stray cat ran somewhere..but it was the solitude...that resonated with how I felt...it was comforting and assuring. We arose and hugged..bonding, and for some reason, we headed for the bed.  (to be continued)