After what seemed like an eternity, she replaced the earpiece on the receiver and drenched in sweat, walked to the bureau and started digging through her oh-so-prim-and-proper underwear. Finding her hidden, long-lost friend buried deep beneath the mound of white cotton, she carefully lifted it from it's secret place.
Sitting down at her desk while slipping the tiny key in place, she gingerly unlocked it and thus with pen in hand began.
May 12, 2011
Remember me? Yeah...I know. I haven't visited you for nigh on 40 years, but I'm thinking it's way past time we got reacquainted. In fact...you were my first thought after the kids left this evening.
Speaking of the kids...I'm sure they have my best interests at heart, but deep down a part of me wonders if they are just tired of fooling with me. I mean really Diary...am I that much trouble? I'm not in the need of changing...YET...nor do I require special feedings, but they do sometimes treat me as if I'm a doddering old fool, food on my chin and one step away from The Home! I guess I never will learn what they are really thinking.
I tell you something I did learn tonight that I'll be needing in the near future Diary and that's new underwear. I swan...I think mine have been around since Hector was a pup, but that's not the reason for my visit tonight. What I desperately need at this moment is someone to just listen and let me sort things out on my own.
Mother always told me not to write anything I wouldn't want on the front page of the newspaper, but I 've always trusted in you not to tell a soul what's going on in my head. After all...you never told anyone about the time at the lake with Jimmy P. or my sipping on snow-cone cocktails while cruising the drag. Why, you even kept silent when I slipped out to meet Burt at "our place" even though it's considered bad luck to see the groom the night before the wedding. To heck with bad luck, I'm going to be totally honest. Wasn't nothing but good that night and a lot of nights that followed for 39 years!
(Note to self: Steady girl...you're making yourself blush!)
So you see Diary, you can understand why I turn to you now. You, who hold my past peccadilloes will now be entrusted with all my future ones.
But enough chit chat Diary, let's just cut to the chase...or in the words kids use nowadays...let's get bizzy!
Over roast beef at dinner, the kids began their usual chant about me needing to get out more...meet people my own age...find a hobby...yada yada yada! I know it's been tough on them, losing their daddy, but it hasn't exactly been a picnic for me. How do I make them understand that living and loving one man for 39 years is more than just being married. There's a part of me that died with him...our shared memories for starters. I try my best to make them understand...but of course they assume to know better than me what I need. I'm hoping against hope if I explain it to you, I'll find the words to make them see it takes time...and sometimes more than just a date on a calendar...to know the right time to start anew.
There are certain sayings that drive me crazy. For example, I have no earthly idea what constitutes a pretty penny. I know I for one look postively green in copper and ol' Abe was never my idea of 2die4 good looking...you know what I mean? Given that...what makes it pretty AND if it's so doggone pretty, why isn't it worth more?
Then there's the big ol' neon signs flashing "Live Topless Dancers". EXCUSE ME? Given the alternative of dead ones (after being rendered topless, I suppose) it would seem to me that any extra information is kind of a given. I may have been out of the loop for awhile, but as memory serves me...all the guys I knew only needed to see the word GIRLS to have 'em lining up with dollar bills in hand. Unless there's been some sort of scientific breakthrough I'm unaware of, I got me a hunch things haven't changed all that much. Why, just imagine how many pretty pennies could be saved by eliminating just one of those extra words!
Since I'm on a roll with pet peeves and since we're on the subject Diary....let me pose this question. Just what exactly is a "good right arm"? Tell me my friend...is there such a thing as a "bad right arm" or would that be the left one. I ask Diary, 'cause this is what I can't make my children understand. For me...it's the one that left me behind.
Point is Diary, because...or maybe in spite of...their
Good night for now, but as Arnold must have said to Maria...I'll be back!
P.S. One last thought Diary...unlike a pretty penny...maybe I'll turn up like a bad one!
I'm linking to Tricia's Fiction Friday. Again...feel free to offer advice and criticism, 'cause just like my heroine...I wear big girl panties.