I think that her husband is a lobsterman.
I want to say – but Ed has never brought home lobster for dinner! Indeed, Ed is not the type that’ll fix dinner at the end of a long day (my long day). And he is not the marrying type. Hasn’t been from birth, he’ll tell you.
And yet, the house is rapidly turning yellow.
The sky – so luminous again! Verging on storminess, then clearing, then not, then -- who knows, who can tell...
Our café is closed this afternoon and so we head out elsewhere for coffee, continuing on to Home Depot – the place where we had spent many a free day just a few seasons back. Familiar. I like that.
There was a lot about this weekend that could be improved upon, but not this – not the sense of quiet contentment. Returning home after Home Depot, we saw her, out in the harvested corn fields...
At home, we unpacked more cans of paint and a new snow shovel. Ed worked late into the evening again...
... and I grumbled about him wearing torn, dirty painter’s pants to dinner. My daughter and her guy came, we ate, they left and now – I have time to take stock of the good stuff.
Always, at the end of the day, one should take stock of the good stuff.
