Today has been an "Oh, Gwen. . ." day. On these days I often hear myself saying out loud those word, Oh, Gwen. . .Sometimes I complete the sentence: "I wish you were here." "Why did you have to go?" Brooke asked me to wake her up early this morning so that she could scramble some eggs for me. There she was, sound asleep, sprawled in bed, no longer the sweet young child Gwen knew, but now a pal who would share many secrets with her grandma. Oh, Gwen. . .
As I am typing this a hummingbird stopped to sip at the feeder outside the window. This is becoming somewhat of a regular occurrence. Flitting about, always busy, suspended in mid-air though sheer effort and will, always beautiful--so like my perfect partner.
Our next-door neighbors, Bob and Bobbi, took me to supper (We left at 4:30, that's supper, isn't it?) tonight. Another" Oh, Gwen" experience. So many times we talked about inviting them over for a meal, but. . There's no point in stating the obvious: we ought to love the ones we love while we are able to do so. Life as it is gets in the way of living as we ought.
I took a break from writing to drive downtown to the Ann Arbor Summer Art Fair. Honestly, Dear, it was just no fun without you. As always happens to me at the Art Fair, there's just too much to assimilate. Tonight I watched peoples' eyes instead. A line from an old John Denver song came to mind: Lost and alone on some forgotten highway; traveled by many, remembered by few. . .The exit from the parking lot was across the street from the funeral parlor where they took you on a Friday night. There were also those Friday nights when I would be pulling into your driveway about this time of day. A hug and a kiss, one week closer to married bliss. Oh, Gwen. . .
As I am typing this a hummingbird stopped to sip at the feeder outside the window. This is becoming somewhat of a regular occurrence. Flitting about, always busy, suspended in mid-air though sheer effort and will, always beautiful--so like my perfect partner.
Our next-door neighbors, Bob and Bobbi, took me to supper (We left at 4:30, that's supper, isn't it?) tonight. Another" Oh, Gwen" experience. So many times we talked about inviting them over for a meal, but. . There's no point in stating the obvious: we ought to love the ones we love while we are able to do so. Life as it is gets in the way of living as we ought.
I took a break from writing to drive downtown to the Ann Arbor Summer Art Fair. Honestly, Dear, it was just no fun without you. As always happens to me at the Art Fair, there's just too much to assimilate. Tonight I watched peoples' eyes instead. A line from an old John Denver song came to mind: Lost and alone on some forgotten highway; traveled by many, remembered by few. . .The exit from the parking lot was across the street from the funeral parlor where they took you on a Friday night. There were also those Friday nights when I would be pulling into your driveway about this time of day. A hug and a kiss, one week closer to married bliss. Oh, Gwen. . .
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