This is my psychiatrist's couch. Take from it what you will.
But do leave a note.
I still am a late middle aged former government worker marking time until the cliff.
Short Fiction, Doggerel and Insensitive Opinion are spoken here.
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Friday, November 25, 2016
Giving Thanks (Blogophilia 40.9)
Roof over our head
Food on the board
On the right side of the ground
We are blessed.
After he finished the Grace, the couple sat next to each other at the small table. Martha leaned over and kissed him, city lights glistening though the raven curls.
"That was lovely, Jerry"
"Thank you , my Love."
Slicing the breast, he placed one on her plate, followed with the cornbread-apple dressing. Then he served himself. Silently, they ate with their eyes closed. Yves had outdone himself, getting the meal together before he went to Paris to see his family. He might be annoying, but he did know how to manage a house.
Plates cleaned of the last morsels, Martha refilled their glasses. Meditatively, she looked at the wine and softly said.
"It's been quite a year."
"Several years." Came the smiling reply.
"It was nice of Rabbi Kunkel to come down to marry us."
"He said at my Bar Mitzvah he should live long enough to do it."
"I almost didn't."
Jerry took a sip and was silent for a moment.
"Yeah. That was started me back. I had taken everything for granted,money, fast cars, work, even you."
Martha put down her glass.
"I can't say I was much better. My mind was only on patents and client meetings. Nothing really mattered, though."
"Kunkel used to tell me: 'Jerry, you are a wanderer. But the path always comes home.' I thought he was nuts. The tradition was stupid and I wanted to be as far away from it as possible."
"So, you chased money."
"I chased money. Along the way, I met you, though."
"Well, you did come home?"
"You are my home."
"And you are mine, Silly Boy. And I give thanks for that every day."