Saturday, January 17, 2015

Freeze Frame

I got home this afternoon and found Vicky, screwdriver in hand, taking apart the cabinets in the dining room.

What!????

She just shrugged and smiled.

By the end of the day, she had sawn a foot and a half off the bottoms and had them put back together...



This afternoon we sat on the living room couch. I was telling her about my day. Before I got very far, she told me to stop for a moment. She pushed me a couple of feet farther away from her, fluffed up a pillow, lay back, rested her crossed legs over my lap, sighed deeply, then said, with an innocent little smile: "OK. Continue."

We talked for quite a while, warm sun shining in the window, spilling out onto the floor and washing the new mantle with a brilliant white. Outside the Eastern windows, we could see the sunlight on our fence, bringing into sharp relief the crags and texture of the surface. Dust motes dipped and bobbed in the air. It was warm and quiet, except for Vicky's soft voice, asking questions, making observations.

Sometimes you wish you could freeze a moment in time, hold it there forever. This was one of them.

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