What to say

I have been writing about the Bobs in my life. Last night I tried to write in the same vein about the Wayne in my life. It's harder. Can anyone tell me why that is?

I suppose it's because the Bobs came and went, and Wayne--well, you know. He did not come and go. Well, he did go but not until we had been married 40 years.

I suppose it's because there is too much to tell.

I'm looking at a picture I keep on my desk. It's of Wayne, standing on a nicely graded dirt path in McCall, Idaho. All around him are trees small and large. His hands are on his hips, his blue jacket tied around him. He holds my red jacket in his right hand and lets it hang down to his knees. He's looking at me--because I'm taking the picture.

We went up there and rented bicycles to ride around the lake, but the bicycles are not in the picture. In our early fifties, maybe. I don't know. It's a picture I like a lot. Nothing grand to remember about it. Just a nice little trip.

Yes, I could write about every day we spent together. But that would get into the everydayness of things.

I don't know how a person could actually do that. Or why.

Mind Tricks

Who can understand these things? Not I.

I pulled out of my driveway Saturday, looked down the street, and saw man walking in my direction. I could only see the top part of him. He was about the same height and size as Wayne.

So here is what my mind did.

Just for an instant, it thought: Maybe that's Wayne. He has come back.

Heavens!

I know how silly that is, how stupid. But that is what went through my mind, and then I had to process it, think it over, actually tell myself it is not possible.

Just because I would like it to happen, after these nearly nine years, doesn't mean it will.

Just a Note

Dear Wayne,
Thanksgiving dinner at Andrew and Michelle's with their boys and others. A very pleasant time. We missed you, but Andrew made the pumpkin pies, carrying on your tradition.

You know, it was nice not to cook the big dinner, but I miss having everyone come here for Thanksgiving.

Changes. They bring their mixed blessings with them.

As usual, I didn't go shopping the next day. Millions did, you know.

I wonder about you, of course.

Love,
Carol

To Lift the Heart

A couple of days ago Richard and I spoke by telephone. Here's one of the things he told me. It's about Axel, his two-year-old boy.

Richard was watching Axel play and said to him, "I love you."

Axel said, "I love you, too." Then he stopped, looked at his dad, and said, "I love you, Babe."

Which is what Axel hears his dad say to his mom.

I love this story. And them, of course.

Of Spiders and Such

I have just now killed a wolf spider. I think it was a wolf spider. It was big, ugly, dark, and it had designs on the blinds in my front window. I mean, like, to live there.

I had other ideas, so now, if it has any life left in it, any consciousness, it will find itself wrapped, crushed, enveloped inside two Kleenex tissues deep in the dark of the garbage can in the garage.

Was it male or female? Richard would know. I would not.

I dislike killing spiders, and this one I could feel inside the Kleenex because it was big.

Gross. And a little bit scary. But I am here and Wayne is not, and I cannot call a neighbor in to do it. Poor me.

So. It is done. Good for me.

If you could have heard it

I wish I could describe last night's Boise Philharmonic concert. Lola and I attended.

I cannot do it justice. The most exciting part was the Rachmaninov Piano Concerto No. 3, Barry Douglas the soloist. Glorious, thrilling, brilliant. About the best I can do.

What a blessing to be there. That concerto is one I have two recordings of. I've heard it many, many times. And Lola has heard it, too. But the truth is there is nothing like hearing it in person. Nothing like watching the music pour out of the pianist and the orchestra, to witness their love of the music, their work to bring it to life. Nothing like it.

And better still, to sit by Lola all through it.

Oh well

My friend Sue came home one day last January and found her husband, Wayne, lying dead on the garage floor. She has had a hard year.

No. Wait. She had a hard several months. Last couple of months she's been online, looking for a man. Found one. Went to California to see him. Came back and said he was absolutely boring. All he wants to do is sit around the house.

Now, apparently, she has found one who lives in Oregon. Closer is better. Right? They meet in Baker City, OR. Half way for both, I guess.

She likes him. I guess he likes her. Don't know how many times they have met. I should see her tomorrow and will get all updated.

My response?

Flabbergasted. Kind of grossed out. It's just not me. Obviously it is Sue.

* * *

By the way, on a different subject and one not at all related to Sue's, my friend Audrey told me today she has never eaten Campbell's tomato soup. Not ever in her life of, I'd say, 40+ years.

No recrimination here. It's just that I find that remarkable. That's why I have remarked about it.