Thanksgiving
November 23, 2012
The Bosphorus Strait darkens. A freighter with a lone backlight moves.
“Illegal...” Paul whispered, “activity.”
He seemed quiet and sad. I seemed quiet and sad, but found myself belly laughing anyway.
I had forgotten what it had felt like, that kind of joy, coming out when discussing non-matching socks and dirty clothes packed or the way dinner by the fireplace felt before leaving, whiskey at the end, warming my insides and out.
Robert was now reading on the couch, giggling over the derangement of religious fanatics. Mary editing photos, Kira in an early evening slumber brought on by my recommendation of a bottle of wine break at the Art Cafe, next to that cute little jewelry store we saw one of my Creative Writing students in.
Paul Wicks was on the couch next to me, Spotify Karaoke and A-Z lyrics on his ipad.
“You’re lovely
with your smile so bright....” (Sinatra style)
“Stay on the melody, Rebecca.” he said.
“I can’t.” I whispered wanting his voice to stay with mine, if only for a little while longer.
“Good...” he said those rare moments when I managed to do it.
This is happiness, and the freighter moved on..
The Bosphorus Strait darkens. A freighter with a lone backlight moves.
“Illegal...” Paul whispered, “activity.”
He seemed quiet and sad. I seemed quiet and sad, but found myself belly laughing anyway.
I had forgotten what it had felt like, that kind of joy, coming out when discussing non-matching socks and dirty clothes packed or the way dinner by the fireplace felt before leaving, whiskey at the end, warming my insides and out.
Robert was now reading on the couch, giggling over the derangement of religious fanatics. Mary editing photos, Kira in an early evening slumber brought on by my recommendation of a bottle of wine break at the Art Cafe, next to that cute little jewelry store we saw one of my Creative Writing students in.
Paul Wicks was on the couch next to me, Spotify Karaoke and A-Z lyrics on his ipad.
“You’re lovely
with your smile so bright....” (Sinatra style)
“Stay on the melody, Rebecca.” he said.
“I can’t.” I whispered wanting his voice to stay with mine, if only for a little while longer.
“Good...” he said those rare moments when I managed to do it.
This is happiness, and the freighter moved on..
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