ForumGarden

I have to laugh... From where I sit ( and I sit here alot ) at the computer, I can see the front of my little apartment complex. So every now and then, a moving truck pulls up. " Oh I think, someone new." My thought process is so affected by books Ive read all of my life, that I get excited at the prospect of it being an unexpected romance for me. I think, " He will be some big burly guy, like Pas best friend on Little House On The Prarie.... or a ruggedly good looking seamen.. newly retired.. shy, but deep, and lovable. We will accidently meet ( in the laundry room) and begin to talk about our lives. We will fall madly in love over the course of this summer, go on a trip to Italy together, and upon our return decide to buy a small farm, in the country.

The new tenant finally appears........ And no no no.. it is not my Sean, or Eric.. Its big and burly, alright. Hes about 79, with no teeth, wearing the clothes of an oil burner repair man, smoking a cigar. Or, hes 17, his mom and dad are with him, settling him in to go to school here. Or, two young women here to preach the Mormon religion to Virginians. What happened to those lovely, unexpected, life surprises that turn into stories we refer back to forever? OOOOO here ciomes the truck now.

Nothing wrong with an active imagination. I often wonder the same kind of stuff when I see that new folks are moving in.

Dreams do come true, in various shapes and forms, weeder. I've lived them, though they end sometimes the way we do not want them to. But I lived it for 4 years until my husband became ill, the proverbial-take her away from working so hard, help with the children (even though they are not mine), give her everything she never had in her whole life. A house, bigger than I ever had-in my name alone. A new car, he bought me a new car for my birthday one year. I had never in my whole life ever had a new car, or one less than 10 years old. I only had to work one job-one job! And come home, and most of the time he cooked dinner for me, and sat me down with his southern charm, and kissed me good evening and smiled through his deep blue eyes at me. And loved me, and treated me as a woman should be.

He still would, if he was not ill. But he tries very hard to be amendable, in his childish ways now as an invalid. And I know not what lies behind his deep blue eyes now, but he wants me there all the time, whether I am me, or someone he calls "mom."

His eyes will remember me one day, whether it is in heaven or if he recovers more. I am ressigned finally he will never really know me for who I was, but for the four years of eternal happiness he gave me, he will be happy until he leaves this world. In the next, he will remember me.