The Story of He and She

It had been years since she'd felt so cared for, so loved.
They sat at the small table located in the corner. He insisted that she sit on the inside facing out so that he could gaze only at her.
She had been alone for a long time, never interested in dating. She spent her evenings either with her girlfriends or at home with her dog. Watching TV and talking about it at work the next day had become a social event in and of itself. She insisted that this was the choice she was making. To be alone. She never thought she'd find someone after all these years.
Her husband died in a traffic accident. He drove long distances for his job and was often away for a few days at a time. One day he left and never came back. She missed him everyday, even now, 10 years after he died.
They had a child, she and her husband. He's 18 now, totally independent and moving off to school in a month. Her son loved his mother. They were inseparable for years but now he was eager to be on his own. She knew this day would come and yet she finds herself unprepared for the silence that will follow his departure. Meeting this new man was helping the transition. She spent many nights on the phone and emailing him. Their conversations were effortless as they moved from how they spent their days to what they dreamt about.
They both had children in the same grade, this is how they met. At the beginning of the school year there was an open house. She noticed him of course, but she didn't think he looked her way. He looked her way. He wondered where her husband was and watched as couples claimed each other as they walked through the halls. She remained alone, hands clasped behind her back as she met her son's teacher. His eyes followed her throughout the night trying to determine her status. Then, she slipped out and was gone.
He caught himself thinking about her a number of times in the weeks that followed the open house. Even went so far as to ask his son if he knew her son.
There was no new information to be had. She slowly became a faint memory. And then, a few weeks ago he found himself back at the school completing some paperwork for the office. He walked quickly through the halls checking his phone for missed calls when he ran right into her. She was in the building for the same reason. It was perfect. He had to introduce himself. He had to invite her to coffee to apologize for making her drop her bag. It was the right thing to do.
She waited outside the office while he gathered what he needed from the school secretary. She wondered why she didn't feel uncomfortable agreeing to coffee with a man she'd just met. Of course she remembered him from all those months ago and she couldn't believe that fate had brought him smack dab into her life.
Their run-in turned into weekly meetings. Every Wednesday morning they'd meet at the coffee shop down the street from the school. And these meetings turned into evening engagements. She found herself canceling events with her girlfriends to be with him.
This was their first weekend away. The drive to Portland was perfect, traffic was light and the sun was shining. They'd planned the whole weekend out with shopping and restaurants and even a show.
They walked into Elephants Delicatessen excited for all the choices, holding hands and taking turns leading each other to one delicious item after the other. They finally agreed on getting the tomato orange soup and the two hearts one salad. Their orders were made and they made their way around to the tables.
She looked into his eyes as she reached across the table and held his hand. He leaned in to kiss her cheek making her feel safe, warm and loved.

Sunshine, Reflection

Friends and Family, I am sitting in sunlight! The sky broke sometime this morning and the sun is streaming into my living room. Tank is following the rays around the room curling himself into a ball and sleeping peacefully at each spot. It feels good!

So I've been working on a posting in my head for a while now. It all started like this:

I made dinner the other night- a stew if you can believe it- and it tasted so good. We were all sitting at the table slurping the warm goodness, enjoying each others company, trying to make August focus on good things that had happened to him that day. When dinner was over Trey announced that the kids would be cleaning the dishes and the table this evening. Nice! I retired to the living room and within a few minutes, Trey joined me. We lounged on our comfy couches and I proclaimed that this was how it was supposed to be. The kids were supposed to help make the kitchen clean. It's how my folks raised us and August and Hazel are now officially old enough to do most of the things needed to clean the kitchen.
It reminded me of an essay I wrote a long time ago. I know I've posted some of my old writings here before, but I can't remember (and am too lazy to look through last years postings) if I've had this one up before. So here it is, I call this one JOBS:


***Taken around this time but missing a few key players...Rick is not in this picture***
We all had our own jobs. Being one of 10 often made that part of home life a bit easier. The list of jobs rotated among the children. Either Mom or Dad cooked, but we secretly hoped it would be Dad; he made the best enchilada’s. Mom, however, cooked most of the time. Her specialty was pizza, and she made the crust from scratch. We hated it, but no one had the heart to tell her. Years later she would agree with us; Dad is now in charge in the kitchen.
My job that night was to sweep the kitchen floor. This task was not the best one on the list, but it sure beat washing ten sets of dishes. I scanned the floor as I approached the table. It was already a mess with some dried tomato sauce crusted in the corner looking suspiciously like blood. Must have been Richard’s job to sweep the night before.
Richard was the first child my parents adopted. He came to live with us when I was a year old. Richard was with us for 10 years before the adoption became official. He was originally from a Hispanic family and he is mentally handicapped. The court system wanted to make sure that a Spanish speaking family wasn’t available before they would allow us to officially adopt him. Richard was non-verbal.
Dad called Kathy for the fourth time to join the rest of the family for dinner. My Dad always prayed before every meal and the whole family had to be present before we began. We waited as Kathy slowly walked down the stairs. Finally, everyone was seated, crowded around the table: Scott, Richard, Kathy, Dawn, Matthew, Jamie, Virginia, Cindy, Rick, Mom, Dad and myself. Dad said the prayer. He was usually pretty good about keeping it short, thanking God for the day, for the family and for the food. Every once in a while he prayed for something specifically, if one of us had a test he would pray that we would remember what we studied. Dad was sure to give us the ‘talk’ when it came to praying about an upcoming test. He reminded us that God can refresh our memory, but not pop things into our heads out of the blue. Therefore, we were always expected to study. Believing in God never got us off the hook.
In our house dinnertime was a social event. Everyone was expected to attend. We all had our jobs to do: one of us set the table, one of us cleared it, someone swept the floor, someone washed the dishes, someone else dried them, and someone else put them away. These jobs were rotated throughout the children, we even had some nights off. The lucky kids with nothing to do would gloat that they had to do a chore last night but were going to read a book while we finished up the kitchen that night. We were a well-oiled machine. Some of us needed a bit more oil here and there, as the kitchen floor proved on that night. In the long run, things were pretty smooth in our house.
Everyone was talking at once. Scott was getting ready to move to Tennessee for college. Rick was excited about his new job switching from Domino’s Pizza to Dolly's Pizza . Kathy was her melodramatic self and was huffing and puffing at everyone. Richard babbled all through dinner, but for the most part we understood. Sometimes his language was a bit rough. Matthew and Jamie were young then, they just looked around and smiled at all the activity. Dawn was a watcher, it took her a while to get started, but once she opened her mouth she was on a roll. Mom and Dad were asking questions around the table. Everyone was trying to get their two cents in. I talked about how much I hated middle school. I could not wait to be done.
Scott was going to be gone in just about a month. I wasn’t looking forward to his departure. I always felt close to him. Looking back I realize that I was just his younger sister. He picked on me about the amount of make-up I wore, the clothes I chose, and the friends I had. He was a good big brother. I didn’t want him to leave me. Kathy caught my attention when I noticed that she was wearing one of my sweaters. I couldn’t stand when she took my things without asking. I asked her where she got it, she responded by informing me that she had gotten it from my closet. Dad must have known we were about to argue because he threw a piece of corn at me.
It bounced off my head and landed in my milk.
Mom gave Dad a knowing glare. Dad simply shrugged his shoulders. He succeeded in defusing the argument; he also succeeded in starting our weekly food-fight. I picked up a chunk of meat loaf and lobbed it toward Dad, only to miss him and hit Rick square in the forehead, a shot I could not have made if I tried. Rick stared, dumbstruck and made the official announcement. The fight was on.
Food was flying. The walls were like a Pollock canvas; splattered colors everywhere. Dad was always very active in our food-fights but it was very hard to pin him down. He was sneaky about his launches. He would look at one person and hit someone else, his college baseball days prepped him well. Mom would always threaten us. We were never to involve her, which just made it more fun to accidentally get her. The best part of our food-fights was watching Richard. He would sense the impending fight like a prairie dog sensing impending danger. His head would lower towards his plate, one arm encircling it to protect it from oncoming shrapnel. He would not throw his food, which he saw as a waste. Richard was at the table to eat, not waste. Dad would inevitably attempt to grab some of Richard’s food only to have his hand swatted away.
Once all the food was either eaten or thrown, it was time to clean up. The person who had to clear the table had quite a task ahead of them, that night it was Kathy. She complained the whole time. Scott washed the dishes, Richard dried them and Rick put them away. I had to make the floor appear as though there was never a food-fight that night, which was easier said than done. Some night’s we could get away without mopping. This was not one of those nights. I began by sweeping around the chairs, trying to get under the table without moving things. Dad unfortunately came into the kitchen while I was doing this. His tip for the night was to move the chairs out of the kitchen so I could sweep under the table effectively. Dad was always good for these tips. He was also known for calling whomever washed the dishes back to the sink. He would inevitably explain that washing the dishes included cleaning out the sink when you’re done. You’d think after hearing it every night, we’d remember. Maybe we just wanted Dad to give us some one-on-one attention.
Once the kitchen was clean, our parents would inspect it like drill sergeants. We would then disperse throughout the house. Most of us ended up downstairs to watch TV. My parents watched TV with us; it was a family event for the most part. We watched programs like Northern Exposure and Moonlighting. We were not allowed to watch channels like HBO or MTV. We saved that for times when our folks weren’t around, when we were sure we could get away with it. This meant that only certain siblings could be around. Dawn was not one of these siblings. She was a timid girl who would tattle on you without intending to. It was hard to be mad at her so we just didn’t do anything ‘wrong’ in front of her.
Mom and Dad would eventually disappear after a show or two and we would smell the sweet aroma of cookies or pudding. They did this for us often. It was our special thing -- warm dessert after a job well done. They would call us up, one by one. The serving system was a bit different, as Dad would give us a bowl and tell us to go down and give it to one of our siblings. Everyone served and was served to. Everyone was involved in our family, regardless of the activity. Whether it was a food-fight, cleaning, or eating, everyone was involved. My parents worked hard at seeing to this.
Being part of a big family had its drawbacks, but our job ultimately was to fit in and to get things done. I think my parents had a hard task; they had to prepare us for the future. They gave us jobs, responsibilities and a sense of purpose, in order to accomplish this monstrous undertaking.

Benches

They meet on Wednesday nights while their little girls do gymnastics. Checking off the days, they wait impatiently for the hour to arrive. For the other parents, it is an endless hour, on hard wooden benches that smell of feet, but for them it goes too fast. He sits next to her, wedging his body around hers, giving her his full attention. His eyes looking into hers, their legs barely touching getting as close as they can without drawing attention.

This night she came bearing gifts, a small bag with dinner- turkey sandwiches with avocado slices on whole wheat. She packs a bowl full of sugar snap peas hoping he likes them. His eyes go wide as she takes the lid off revealing the vibrant green.
This is the only way they can eat together. The thrill of being in public without being revealed is pure bliss.
It is not yet time to reveal their love for one another, the girls have already been through too much.
They will wait. There will be more months of gymnastics, further time to talk and listen and grow their relationship.

His hand slowly wraps around her small forearm like ivy up a brick wall. She glances around the gym looking for her daughter. Upon finding her she smiled and waves and returns her gaze towards her new found love. This small touch will hold them both over until next week when they will sit together on the hard benches again.