It is not dead. It lives in Texas, the north (certainly not the northeast coast of the US) and midwest. Perhaps the Rockies a bit if it’s truth to tell and old pickup trucks, not just snow bunnies.
We’ll be married 14 years next month and actually dated for 16 months before marriage. Dating, that’s not a concept I recall. Now it’s Roku and Netflix. I digress.
I told you my father died yesterday, after a long, hearty, mostly healthy, always interesting life. He was a gentleman. My husband is one as well, with his Texas verbiage. No, ma’am, yes sir, thank you ma’am.
Since Dad died I’ve had a few visitors, mainly older and male. They know my husband is en route home right now and was not here when the news came down, so came to call. One brought two beautiful red roses and said one was for me, one was for my Dad, and May He Find Peace.
That was my old neighbor, the retired architect. They now live three blocks down the street.
Another said he thought I needed company yesterday morning so I got to make him breakfast. Good, as I needed it as well. Eggs, biscuits and bacon and tea. He showed me his place and it’s the neatest living space I’ve ever seen. I told him when he has a date he has to put out an empty pizza box with a few crumbs, an empty beer can on the coffee table, and a child’s handprint ashtray with a cigar that has gone out.
Otherwise I’d be frightened to enter his abode. Now, he wants me to cater his dates as he’s never used the stove, oven, dishwasher or w/d. While I prep and clean everything as I go, I believe he may have physical pain as I mess up his pristine environment.
The Three Amigos. That is what I should call them. They were a bit of a clique the other day. Now each of them has called on me. The roses guy was my next-door neighbor. My husband is away a lot and he’d stop by once a week and knock on the door to see if I was doing OK and ask when my husband was coming home.
The last amigo asked to visit this morning. He could not find the number on our door due to macular degeneration so went home and got a magnifying glass. He used it to see all my photos and artwork, and couldn’t believe that Dad started painting at age 80. My father died yesterday having recently turned 85.
Now that both my parents are gone my husband’s parents have already said I have a new family now. I would like to thank my husband, who arrives in about 40 minutes (his pizza will be ready) and his family who took me in nearly 15 years ago. J’s “Nanny” is mine, she offered that first day. I’m an honorary “grand.” Of course there are great-grands, and now more.
I treasure my Three Amigos for taking care of me these past two days. There was another knock on my door, a huge evergreen basket to place by the fireplace. Something to place by a hearth. No hearth, much heart. Thank you, you know who you are. I’ve lived beside you for nearly five years.
Might this all have something to do with a nun’s desk? Nah, it’s all Dad’s magic. He had a way with people, I always learned from him, and will instill some of our knowledge into younger folks but as he is gone I will not be able to ask him for more. I always wanted his take on things. That will no longer be available as he is gone. Cheers, Dee
I now call them the Three Musketeers, and I am D’Artagnan, who can save them someday,