Burning Ed’s name into my abdomen was the equivalent of getting a tattoo, just short of being engaged, a symbol of eternal love.
It was time she gave me, her presence, her thoughtful listening and focus. She made me feel like my words mattered.
Her eyes sparkled, her hair shimmered silver, and her jewelry shook and danced when she moved.
She got married, had kids, kept a nice house, and made sure there was always plenty of lunch meat in the fridge for her husband.
There was no dress rehearsal for being single. Suddenly my co-pilot was gone and I was flying solo.
I often hold points of view like race horses waiting at the gate to gallop forth from my mouth.
If I stood too close to her, she blew smoke in my face. But after a year as her assistant, I took it as a sign of affection.