A John Day

It's a beautiful evening; I'm in the back yard, writing in my notebook.  It's sunny and warm, there's a cool northwest breeze.  Birds are everywhere; I've just refilled the feeder--doves, robins, grackles, red-wing blackbirds, sparrows, gold finches, a red cardinal, off in the distance an owl says he gives a hoot about this evening.  This is just about as perfect as it gets: except, you know who isn't here to enjoy it with me.  I'll never lose that sense of loss and longing.

This morning I played 18 holes of golf.  Then it was off to Macy's lunch counter for the monthly gathering of friends and neighbors from the old Forestrbrooke neighborhood. After that, nine more holes of golf.  Guess you could say it was a "be good to John" kind of day.

There are the old memories.  Forty some years ago I would have finished another day at my summer job as a handyman for Consumers Power, cleaned up, gotten into my two-tone 1958 Chevy, and headed north to Gaastra; soon to be greeted by the love of my life.  It sounds corny, but even now I can feel the excited anticipation as I looked forward to her kiss and embrace.  I don't know if that kind of story could happen anymore in the modern day of fast cars, e-mail, cell phones and text messages.

Our neighbor, Robin, just came out to water her flowers.  She's so nice.  I wish Gwen could have met her.

My thoughts take me back to eight months ago.  It was a beautiful evening like this one, late in the fall.  "I'll be waiting for you," she said when I told her I'd like to play a final round of golf before winter set in.  She asked for a little morphine, and soon drifted off to sleep.  After golf, I returned with her new favorite thing, a pineapple/mango smoothie from MacDonald's.  We shared and enjoyed it, and then, her cough got worse. . .

After all those Friday nights when she welcomed me, on that Friday night she would be welcomed to the place where she now awaits me.

 At lunch today, Dear, as is always the case with that bunch, the women sat together and talked about whatever women talk about at Macy's lunch counter, and the guys sat together and talked guy stuff.  One of the guys mentioned how much he disliked shopping with his wife.  I wanted to shout at him: "Please, ask her to go shopping with you right after lunch.  Soon enough, like me, you will give anything to have her at your side as she tries to decide which blouse looks best on her. Love her while you have her!  (On the way into the store today I saw a blouse that would have looked perfect on Gwen.  And, it was on CLEARANCE.)"  But, I didn't say anything: things don't mean anything until they mean something.

Guess I'll go in the house now.