Love, Love, Love

Alarm clock noise bizzzzzzzzz
It’s 5 AM. I slip quietly out of our bed, tip toe down the hall, put on my lucky fishing shirt. Miss all the squeaky steps on the stairs, walk over the bodies of ten dogs on ten rugs

Make coffee. Walk over the bodies of ten dogs on ten rugs to sneak out the front door for a day of fishing. It’s my job.

My little red puppy licks my face awake. At 7:30 I stretch across the soft cotton sheets, look out the window at an early March Spring day.

I ‘m alive; I’m alive; I’m alive.

Pull on the old madras pajama bottoms, slip on my son’s high school blue tee shirt. Run down the hall to put the soft wool socks into the sheepskin slippers. HA slippers on the farm! Out the bathroom window I spy five white pine trees, one for each year.

I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love.

I drive up the long, black highway to pick up my sports. One man, one woman in love, in love with the day and each other. I think of my wife asleep on the farm.

Mornin’ doggies. Feed 9 dogs in 9 bowls. Walk my blind and deaf dog to the barn, my slippers are as quiet as his pads. Horses nicker for breakfast. Cats meow. Wait for the horses to turn for their hay, walk back under the old oak trees.

Feed the oldest dog. Dole out peanut butter and aspirin. Plain to the young ones. Turn to see the mess of coffee beans on the counter.

I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love.

Fishing is how we met. It had taken our entire lives to find each other. Just then, she told me she had cancer. Why now? Why her? I wanted to smoother her with my body. I wanted to change places. I wanted us to be anywhere fishing with no cancer in sight.

It’s going to be a perfect day, just the kind I crave. Open the windows to the soft Spring breezes. Let the trees sway with unheard music. Open the door to bird pointing dog. Watch the horses rip green onions from the ground. Listen to the frogs croak timeless songs in their stream. Sun, breeze and lots of time. Read and talk to my dogs. Pick up his laundry in the bedroom, bath, hall, kitchen and porch.

I love this day, I love this day, I love this day.

After surgery, she stared me down, daring me to be disgusted. I pasted the blandest expression on my face. What I did at that very moment was the bell ringer for her emotions. She stared me down, but I survived. And we went on – the lingering black cloud following.  

Soak up the sun on the screened porch and nap. The dogs hear the crunch of the tires on the long driveway. We all stretch towards the front door.

I love this man, I love this man I love this man.

​Story inspirations and ideas are my own. Thus, positive reactions are welcome. Criticism not.