Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘marriage’

Dear Ruby, Four Unsent Letters

Posted in short story, tagged , , , , , , , , on February 12, 2025| Leave a Comment »

“A promise made is a debt unpaid.” – Robert W. Service.

DEAR RUBY: UNSENT LETTERS

(Fiction)

Dear Ruby,
I realize I should explain why I’m writing an old-fashioned letter instead of talking to you in person. I’m not sure what I want to say. There would be too much silence between words—not a thoughtful pause, but Ausable Chasm without its beauty.


Remember rock climbing at the chasm on our honeymoon? Was there ever anything typical about us?


Our wedding day, when for better or worse was a phrase that had as much significance as a television commercial for the terminally naive.


In black and white, that’s all we had in the 1950’s. Black or white cowboy hats determined whether a character was on the side of the law or not. You said that bullets killed both sides equally. I noticed only action and fantasy.


We were young. I wanted to get a job and protect you forever. As the mom, the cook at home.


“No way,” you answered, sweetness mixed with acid. You needed a career as well. You rerouted my chauvinism and triggered my admiration. However, my ignorance could only be channeled so far.


Our baby. A boy. Lived three hours.


“But, sweetheart, he didn’t have a chance anyway.” I tried to comfort you with facts instead of arms. “His brain and kidneys were not properly developed.” Perhaps I need to say goodbye to both George Henry Sr. and George Henry Jr. You mourned our baby. I lost you.”

Draft Two:


Dear Ruby,
In my dream last night I bought a second engagement ring for you. But the ring disappeared when I tried to slip it on your finger. And you got angry as if I were trying some ill-mannered magic trick… No, I can’t admit that. It overflows with insecurity.

Attempt Three:

Dear Ruby,
I worked late again the day we reconciled. It had been dark when I entered my brother’s house. His wife left food for me. She is kind, but sometimes feeling sorry for me leaks out of her and stains my ego. Thanks for taking me back. I have something important to tell you. I’m a changed man—odd timing, I’ll admit, but for the first time in my life, I see clearly you have always been the stronger half. Okay, minus the five months when we were separated. You got a break.

What took me so long?

Read Full Post »

Inside Dreams

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , , on September 9, 2021| Leave a Comment »

inside dreams

Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere. (Albert Einstein)

 The hotel bed is large, comfortable, with sheets cleaned by someone other than me. I’m on vacation. And yet, my closed eyes don’t travel toward dreamland. Two hours pass. A thunderstorm hits both outside, into the noisy street, and inside me, into a series of both recent and long-gone events that refuse to change their reality.

 Facts. Time to change channels. Silently my brain sings Summertime from Porgy and Bess. My one and only standing ovation for a vocal solo more than 55 years ago. The only song my arthritic fingers can strum on a guitar after a broken middle finger. Nope. Too many replays. I am yawning. Not a good sign.

I try grandchild stories. Smiles. Nonsense. Happy trouble. Words. Not the quiet needed for sleep.

Gratitude. Simple. I move closer to warmth. The man I married fifty years ago. And sleep steals my body and mind, the anesthetic necessary for healing. Perhaps as I waken not long after seven, my dreams didn’t have enough time to do a full night’s work. And I don’t remember the tiniest dream sequence.

 The sun rises and dries the cement-sidewalk world outside my window. My eyes open to a day that could take me anywhere. It doesn’t ask for perfect. Perfect has no place else to go. Sounds boring.

Boring ends across the street at a local coffee shop. A young girl behind the counter. Her name is Kay. I buy a croissant-sandwich and then survey the homemade treats. We talk. The beauty in her spirit speaks louder than her words. I don’t have enough change for the cookie I buy.

“That’s okay. I’ll spot it,” she says.

I pause. The difference is one-third the cost.

“That’s okay. I’ll spot it,” she repeats.

And I tell her I will announce her kindness in a larger forum. This blog.

Thank you, Kay! May your fondest dreams come true.

 

Read Full Post »

After the Stroke, a Poem

Posted in inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , on June 27, 2021| 1 Comment »

illustration After the Stroke blog

AFTER THE STROKE

You were right. The garage-sale couch 
I bought when we were in grad school
faded against our apartment wall
like sky into sky.

I never minded your razzing.
Your pokes led to embraces
on that bland divan. Its springs broke years ago.
Like the now-disconnected side of my body.

My words dissolve before they touch 
my tongue. But our past replays scenes 
as you rotate old photos
to feed my memory, although I forget

the ice water you set inches from my good side.
Lifting it proves my earth-presence.
At the soirée displayed in the center of a yellowed album
your eagle-proud mother told me, "Forget champagne.

A common large-beaked crow hides inside your 
black bargain dress. Perch on a lower shelf, dear."
As she lay dying, I wiped her chin and behind.
She never changed her mind about me.

I lift a freshened glass of water.
My arms could be made of paper straws.
Books cover one wall. We’ve read them all
I long for the ability to tell you to open

any book to the blank page in the back,
the space that announces words have ended.
Close the cover. Say good-bye.
Water dribbles down my numb chin.

I’m as hidden as our old blue sofa.
Lock your eyes into mine.
Let me see you as you were on that worn
linen eyesore. Enter a space that joins

everything it touches. Come.
Sit with me. Embrace your common crow.
One more time.
The chores will wait. This moment may not.

The above poem is fiction. I am old enough to be aware of difficult possibilities. I am seeing a lot of them. For now, I celebrate this moment, and celebrate the quote I chose for today:

 

illustration made from public domain photo, pastel, colored pencil, and colored papers

Read Full Post »