You look back and wonder where all those years & microseconds of your life get off to- where do they go? In any sort of emergency time s-l-o-w-s way down to a glacial crawl... a fraction of a second is an eternity. The first time you ever notice that your first thought is “Hot Damn! I'm faster than everybody else! Unfortunately for you, they are too... it evens out.
Those seven years I spent with Miss Helen...
( A blur of speed & power, Rich Man Poor Man, Up the Down Staircase- lay my head down by My Own True Love every night, wake up to My Very Best Friend and a whole new world and its adventures every morning... then she hit that Great Arrestor Cable of Death and suddenly I had a Whole New World before me. Minus my true love and best friend... )
The 25 years with Emily seemed so long in the living of them but when I look back? Somehow in all that living I mostly remember how pretty she looked in that line at the Coastal Bank, and how awful she looked dead on the floor. The rest? Was just details. She, too was my best friend.
I have trouble reconciling that- those two wives of mine were so different on the surface and so alike inside.
I'm writing this on what used to be “my side of the bed”- you may remember that when Emily died I moved to her side- because it smelled like her-- and that's been My Station on the Delta ever since. But while I was up this morning starting the domestic chores Cole-boy plopped himself down on my pillows and I had not the heart to move him- so I moved myself. To my old station.
How strange it is- I almost expect to feel Emily's ghostly hand stroke my jaw like she used to...
Yesterday was a reprise of the day before- tree trimming & goofing around the yard & the house, rain squalls & shopping. When I went up in the evening to clean up Cole-boy followed me once again and parked himself in that middle room, and once again when I was done I looked at Emily's bookcase...
Besides her yearbooks & craftbooks there are scores of hardback novels- including that Primal Fear I mentioned, and one by Robert B. Parker- Double Deuce. When we first were married we had similar tastes in books and often shared them- Parker's “Spencer for Hire” among them, but this was a title I didn't remember reading with her. Since I was near the end of Sheepfarmer's Daughter I pulled it out- it put up a fight, being stuck between other books for so long- and took it down with me.
It's not a bad yarn- the twist is Spencer is working for Hawk for a change and moves in with his longtime Jewish girlfriend. His black guy/white guy dialog could “pass” down here- it's close enough for government work.
This newfangled WWW stuff is amazing- I was aware Parker had died recently so I looked it up ( Yeah, yeah, it's Wiki, full of PC BS, but they do give you lots of links. He was older than I had thought and died in the saddle- not a bad way to go regardless of age.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_B._Parker
But I was unpleasantly surprised to learn Robert Urich had died too- a number of years before. I had known he'd had cancer but the last I'd heard- about a decade back- he seemed to be doing OK. Then again this was during “the time of the starving”- when we were trying to live off Emily's paycheck alone and had canceled every newspaper & magazine so I was out of the loop of popular “culture.”http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Urich
Following Wiki's links I was further surprised that Bob Urich had had a role in this:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lonesome_Dove
I never have seen it, or read the book, but the title always intrigued me- it's springboard for the imagination like all good titles are.
I suppose I need to track Miss MaryAnn down- my email of 2 days ago remains unanswered and I have not gotten a call from her. Meanwhile the Sun comes up like thunder and it's time to wend my way up those long & winding stairs to scrape the whiskers off my face and face another day.
Me & my sturdy little Golden pal. Two bachelors. Tryin' to get by in a strange and Emily-less New World...