He really must have loved her.
"My wife never had a streach mark on her. She used lotion every day." , he told her the first time she walked passed him in her bikni. " Streach marks are caused by internal dehydration..." was her quiet explaination that fell on his unhearing ears.
He had to love her very much.
"People mistook my wife for a doll, she was that little.", he would say after she had bumped her hip against the edge of the counter trying to pass by him. She paused but kept walking.
He loved her unmeasureably.
"My wife could make these fried potoates that were unbievable, she was a wonderful cook", he remembered out loud as she stared into her dish of lobster newburg unable to swallow.
He loved her so much no one else would ever satisfy his appitite.
"My wife HATED my jokes.", he remarked as she chortled and snorted. Her laughter died.
"Yeah, I loved her like crazy, too bad she never loved me."
She takes down the picture. The wife is looking back at her. She studies the face she has walked past a thousand times without realizing this is the phenomina she is measured against and scrutinizes her image. Plain, unremarkable. Some would even call dowdy. She searches for a gimmer of special charm or beauty. What is her hidden allure. Yes, there it is.
He really must have loved her.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Now I have seen you in a bikini and any knob that would be critizing instead of thinking WAAALAAAALAA is mental. Can't believe you married him. Baldur.
Baldur-my husband is smart enough to never compare me to another woman in a sly mannor or straight forward. He doesn't even ever "check out" another woman when I am within an 5 mile radious and that is why I love him. Other than telling our boys that Zena is their real mom, he doesn't even notice other woman. I have in fact had to point them out at times.
Post a Comment