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Dinner and a Movie



Rob and I went out on a date last evening. A real one. Hired a sitter and everything. I think this might be about the fifth date we have been on ever. It’s interesting to me that even those rituals of courtship and coupledom that are entirely ordinary don’t feel that way at all.

We went to see Ocean’s 13. It wasn’t bad. Of course, I haven’t seen the previous two films, so I have no basis for comparison. A few things struck me however. First that the film has a 1960’s feel to the cinematography in places. Second, Ellen Barkin’s boob job was kinda scary looking, and there isn’t enough of an age gap between she and Matt Damon for the COUGAR rule to apply. Finally, Brad Pitt looked old. Not old man old. But, old like me. Which he should I guess as he and I are the same age. The last thing I noticed was that Rob and I were the only couple, of any age, in the theater who were snuggled up to enjoy the movie. The seating these days makes it possible for a couple to sit close, curl up even, but we were the only ones to avail ourselves of these modern improvements in cinematic enjoyment. Which brings me back to my earlier point, even the ordinary relationship things seem worthy of going the extra mile. Indeed, if there is a mile beyond the extra, I kinda want to go there too.

Unshed Tears


Tears have been close to the surface all day long. So many memories to sort through, pack, and give away. I found the binder they gave me when Will went into hospice. It has been moved from place to place, lost, forgotten and resurfacing with regularity ever since. It was time to take it back. I have been meaning to do so since the first of the year, but now it really was time. I could have thrown it away, I suppose. It’s just a binder with information on the process of dying. What is normal. What to expect. I am sure they didn’t need it back. But it felt wrong to throw it away, so I took it back.

When I walked in there was no one at the front desk. There hardly ever was though because they depend on volunteers to do many things, and this was one of them. I had hoped that one day I would be able to volunteer at the hospice. Give back a bit. But I haven’t been strong enough. My compromise has been trying to be supportive of people on the board. I succeed about half the time, I think.

I checked the staff rooms, but they were empty. I went into the chapel and looked at the book with the names of the deceased, but the book was for this year only and Will’s name wasn’t there. Finally, I ventured back towards the rooms. Will was in room 5. I could see that the room was occupied so I didn’t head towards it, but a part of me wanted to look in. Not because I thought he would be there, but because it is the last place I ever saw him. And I don’t miss seeing him the way he was,especially that last year, but as I prepare to move away and truly start a new life with Rob, I have this homesick feeling for Will.

A nurse appeared from the kitchen then and asked if she could help me, and I handed her the binder, explaining that I was moving and wanted to return it. She looked a bit confused. I guess most people just throw the binder away. I couldn’t really explain that I had given enough away for the day.

As I headed out the front door to my car, I could almost hear him tell me that I shouldn’t have gone there, That he wasn’t there anymore. Indeed he is rarely around at all. I don’t feel him in the house or at the cemetery or even hear him much in my mind. It’s like he is telling me with his absence that it is time we both got on with the present we are living and head towards the futures we are meant to have. And he is right. I have been absent myself. Living and planning and being happy. It’s time.

Daughter of the Bride


In my purging and packing, I decided it was time to let go of my wedding dress. The one I married Will in eight years ago this coming August. There was no reason to keep it. Daughters want gowns of their own and not the outdated ones of there mothers. I did keep the veil however. It is a family heirloom. My sister, Kate and I decided it would be anyway seven summers ago when she wore it to marry. We decided that we would force our yet unborn daughters and daughters in law to wear it. Gowns are a product of the fashion ills of their times, but a veil is a veil. So I kept the veil and showed it to my little girl, lover of all things princess. She, of course, had to try it on at once and have her picture taken. It might be the only picture of her in it I get. I remember trying on my mother’s gown and veil when I was about 8. Which was the only time I fit into it really. Mom weighed ninety-two pounds when she married Dad. Even if I had been able to wiggle into it though, I wouldn’t have wanted to wear it. It was hers and not me at all. Katy may have my same headstrong and willful nature and certainly is my match on the patience scale, but we are different people, and my perfectly Disneyfied princess child will always have a better sense of style than I.