Musings From A Grass Widow
Category: Seasons , Life
'Now you're a grass widow'
Our neighbor Mrs. Aragon, 86 and full of wisdom, had told me this, when my husband and I walked up to her gateless driveway where she was seated by her usual perch, on a rocking chair by her massive narra front door. She being vain, once again apologized for the fact that she couldn't properly have her dentures on, having recently had a bout with Bell's Palsy, which of course we had known from Day 1, many months ago. This was the other day, the last afternoon before my husband left for San Francisco, to live out his lawful residency gig and process our own petitions, for a future brand-new start. Which renders me now as an OFW wife.
Really, the worst punishment of being middle-class is separation. Now I can relate.
Mrs. Aragon being graciosa, who lives almost right across us, probably sensed my puffy eyes from non-stop crying and offered comfort by means of an open invitation to sleep over at at any time. And that was probably the only time I smiled that afternoon. I guess that she cried a little too, when my husband came to say goodbye before he left the following morning. That guy -- he had a way with old ladies. And I miss him terribly.
'Now you're a grass widow'
Our neighbor Mrs. Aragon, 86 and full of wisdom, had told me this, when my husband and I walked up to her gateless driveway where she was seated by her usual perch, on a rocking chair by her massive narra front door. She being vain, once again apologized for the fact that she couldn't properly have her dentures on, having recently had a bout with Bell's Palsy, which of course we had known from Day 1, many months ago. This was the other day, the last afternoon before my husband left for San Francisco, to live out his lawful residency gig and process our own petitions, for a future brand-new start. Which renders me now as an OFW wife.
Really, the worst punishment of being middle-class is separation. Now I can relate.
Mrs. Aragon being graciosa, who lives almost right across us, probably sensed my puffy eyes from non-stop crying and offered comfort by means of an open invitation to sleep over at at any time. And that was probably the only time I smiled that afternoon. I guess that she cried a little too, when my husband came to say goodbye before he left the following morning. That guy -- he had a way with old ladies. And I miss him terribly.
Poppycock | 3/16/2008 |
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