Kin

Love called me earlier, when he didn't have to; I'm right beside him or thinking about him.  His voice sounded especially nice tonight, and I want to savor the serenity it provided, deep, nostalgic, and pleasantly comforting.  He knows how and when to take the proper tone with me, and that feels like it melts me into pools of warm jello gelatin.  In turn, he must read and decipher my every intricate facial gesture to a suitably appropriate tone, adapted on the spot in order to "come correct[ly]." Meanwhile, I am adapting my facial moods in reaction to his dominating presence and jelly-melting voice.  I have AP English essays to grade for a full, lonely ten days in Missouri.  At the same time, I have the live-in-the-now mentality, where watching news about the latest totally destructive missiles pointed our way directs me to my blog to savor the power of one of the best experiences, hearing that wonderfully encouraging tone and voice of my angel tonight.  We met almost twenty years ago at the Black Angus, now Red Lobster, in Oceanside, California.  He was twenty-one, partying with fellow US Marines and taking Kamikaze shots; I was twenty-four and sipping diet coke in between pressing MA degree assignments.  My friend and co-worker at The Pier Restaurant, Jamie, was already esconsed across the barroom on a dj's lap, while my future husband introduced himself and suavely came onto three girls, each in turn, who were seated in front of me.  I didn't think they needed to rebuff him so harshly.  Even intoxicated on forced shots by fellow soldiers, he surely saw their snickering pleas, hurtful even if they are subconsciously working for that extra mile of fawning attention.  I had just lost my Daddy.  It was the year before that he died of cancer, and still I had no hope of a method to curb that relentless grief.  He was the best person I knew, my hero, and he was way too young to die.   I always wished I could have fixed him, had an easy doctor's answer he would follow, like exercise and eat right, rather than smoking Winston's and pining over your most recent break-up.   God I miss him.  I'd love to hear his self-same voice for real again!  So that's what catches my breath.  It's the bold life lessons, spoken with the confidence of experience, that come upon me in honey-smooth diction, penetrating and altering my mindset with smoothly nostalgic delivery....

I know that love lasts forever, even if irreconcilable differences necessitate the most reprehensible distances.  I miss a very rare, reverberating reassurance, so, alas...I must institute its feminine version in an interim.  😺