A Little Blue, e.schoettler, collage

At the local Starbucks time of day makes a big difference.
4PM yesterday there was a fair crowd and multi-layers of sound blending the voices of all the conversations.

Since I am usually alone when I am there I spend my time
people-watching or eavesdropping.

After a while a white haired man across the room stood up to put his coat on. He was not totally steady on his feet but he was on his own and hefting a heavy backpack onto his back. That's when I noted his wrinkled, aged hands. They reminded me of the look of Jim's wonderful, strong, and capable hands as his last days ticked away.

Those hands brought me up short.

You see, they confirmed again to me that I never saw Jim as an aging man. I always saw him as the vital and vigorous guy I fell in love with. Funny how that happens, isn't it? It's a gift.

I hope he saw me the same way.

The irony for all long-married couples is that you continue to hold those youthful images of each other - - - but once one of you is gone there is no one who sees or thinks of the one left you as you were when you were young and starry-eyed.

Darn. That's really too bad. One of life's tricks.

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