Category Archives: Love

♫ MISTY WATER-COLORED MEMORIES . . . OF THE WAY WE WERE ♫

He wanted to be scary…she wanted to be pretty.

She was six…he was five.

This was one of those Halloweens that seared itself into the recesses of my mind, just waiting to bring a smile upon request by my consciousness.

I make that request every year at this time.

Wasn’t it yesterday that I said, “to hell with it!” and cut a good white sheet to drape over my little boy’s frail frame? And wasn’t it that same yesterday when I taught my little girl the Roaring Twenties song, “Anything Goes?”

I can still hear him roar as he raised his stretched arms, because, to him, that would be much more frightening than simply shouting “boo!”

Placing the dark brown wig over her bright red tresses to hide her identity from her classmates was the only demand my little flapper made.

To ensure the whole Halloween experience would be absorbed into their own memory-banks — I reminded him to roar at each door . . . and her little girl voice belted out: “In olden days a bit of stocking was looked on as something shocking…now, heaven knows —anything goes!”

This Halloween season, I hope you share your own recollections with friends and family, and keep building on those “Misty, water-colored memories.”

I’d also love to read them in the comments section of this post, if you’re so inclined, Dear Readers!

 

 

 

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ONCE MORE. . .WITH FEELING!

Old couple watching TV

“Would you like to go to NYC for New Year’s Eve?” he asked.

“Sure. Why not,” she said.

And so,  they held hands.

“What is your favorite color dead leaf?” he asked.

“Orange,” she said.

And so,  they dated.

“Will you marry me?” he asked.

“Have another beer,” she said.

And so,  they laughed.

“He asked me to marry him, is that okay?” she asked.

“About time. It’s your life,” her children said.

And so,  she said yes.

“Does Bastille Day work for you?” he asked.

“Definitely,” she said.

And so,  they were married.

“Will you hand me the remote?” he asked.

“Here ya go,” she said.

And so,  they smiled and grew old together.

 

WHEN IRISH EYES STOP SMILING

 

Her heart stopped. And my heart broke.

“Is she gone?” I asked.

“Yes,” the doctor said with tears cascading over her pale cheeks to drip from her chin.

I threw myself over her soft body like I had seen women of the Middle East do in the midst of bombings, while mourning their dead children.

I wailed like them for our little girl, Katie Scarlett. Only ten years old.

I kissed her head and said, “Good-bye my little girl.” I thought I might not be able to stop sobbing. My adult daughter and my husband moved back to let me hold her close one last time.

I’ve seen death up close before. But, for some reason, this was different.

I asked the doctor, “What happens now?”

She said her body would be picked up and her ashes should be available for us to pick up by the end of the week.

I cannot reconcile myself to this loss. There are so many holes in my life now. Our beautiful Irish girl was gone from us. Our beloved Soft-coated Wheaten Terrier, was not coming home.

 

Katie Scarlett at one year old
Katie Scarlett at ten years old.

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