Thrre’s been a lot of weird characters rummaging through our house lately, some of them pretty hard to pin down.
The dog lurking in the corner where the white stool sits is easy pickings. The one that runs across the counter or over the table is a little harder to explain, so best not bother.
The children playing just on the edges of vision, or laughing around the corner, are benign visitations.
But there has been this man…a few weeks ago the object of fearful whispering, much hushing and creeping around corners. Lately the man has been accepted as a casual visitor while Don asks : “What did he say to you – I know you were talking” -brushing aside my protestations of ignorance.
And it turns out, no wonder. I heard a long and cheerful conversation in the bathroom, and was somewhat startled but pleased when Don reported happily that, “I asked that guy but he doesn’t want any breakfast. “
Oh-kay. But the next day the mystery broke when Don pulled me into the bathroom, cannily staying around the corner, but certain I could catch a look at “that fellow.” Identity confirmed when I coaxed him around the corner for a quick look in the mirror.
This however doesn’t make my love any easier about using the bathroom when “That fella’s there again.”
And then there’s Sam.
“Sam!!! There you are! – I have been looking everywhere for you. I am so happy you came back.” Wondering vaguely what new linguistic failing led to “Sam” but really having a 100 other things to juggle, I gave myself into his joyous embrace, while wondering if dinner would coax him into eating.
Later as he helped cook by stirring up some flour, he asked, “Did you say one of our daughters wasn’t coming?” And I realised suddenly that “Sam” rhymed with the name of his first wife and mother of his children, his love not forgotten in this haze of memories.