When lightning has struck me eighty-two times I want to hear everything and on the eighty-third hear nothing but the most precious of memories.
I hope I can recount stories of our embarrassing proposal and the angry Presbyterian ministers performing the ceremony
because in twenty-two and a half years I have never once believed my grandparents loved each other, but last night the second Julian recounted he and Lavern's saga of a marriage that ended in four ****-ups and decades of disappointment with the most agreeable disposition- even for a man dying of too much salt in his diet.
I only hope someone will love me enough to eat bland food and our grandson's vegetables one day.
Has anyone ever read "In Praise of Craziness, of a Certain Kind" by Mary Oliver? Made me think.