The Gift

Several times last night while writing my blog, Larry came downstairs from the Netherlands and asked: "are you coming up?".

I issued my typical curt answer: "when I am done."

I answered this question a few times...but it's OK, it is part of the routine mating dance that we perform with love, grace, and at times, brevity.

Finally, after summoning enough energy to write a few emails and a few thoughts on the blog, I headed upstairs.

I performed my typical night regime; pee, brush my hair, brush my teeth, brush the hair on my teeth, (I know, b a d Patti...) and entered the bedroom.

Larry is in bed, and smiling. I begin to slough off my painting clothes; a much loved and lived in t-shirt, and my favorite pair of feels-great-to-do-anything in jeans - the haute couture of my introvert art world.

I look on the bed, and there is a bag. "Garbage?" I ask him quizzically.

He laughs.

I see that in the bag is tissue, and that it is a present.

"Because you have been feeling so poorly, I bought you this" the magic man says.

I open the bag; it is a lovely sun dress. I try it on and smile thinking back to the days when I would buy vintage clothes at flea markets, and model them for Larry. A time when we were much younger and our hormones were out of control and trying clothes on was like acting in a black and white soft porn vintage French film.

I try the dress on and wonder if it is too revealing, too young for this 50+ woman. I then remember, with revelation and humility, the wisdom of a wise man I met on the beach. He was a spiritual man, raised by Native Americans. I asked him to give me one thought about his 50 years of marriage. He smiled at me and said: it was never easy,all these years. But every night when I wrap my arms around her, I see the girl I fell in love with and married 50 years ago".

I'm gonna so rock that dress.

patti o display