“I have seventy two books loaded on this thing, and I still get anxious when I go to appointments.” – The Reading Girl
“It’s OK. Once you’ve run out of books, they’re bound to have a bulletin board cluttered with all manner of printed crap.” – Me
“Of course… the bulletin board; there’s always a bulletin board. Good to go!” – The Reading Girl
Eyes closed, head slowly shaking side to side – Me
A mug of hot coffee and a gallon of milk.
She sips the coffee while devouring the contents of the milk,
eyes fixated on its label.
Dinner smells, “interesting.”
I do not dare ask.
A new cookbook has “followed her home.”
I look up from my desk,
see her scanning a sheaf of papers.
“Hey! I’m still writing that one!”
Sitting quietly in traffic,
I glance quickly around.
There should be enough signs while we wait at the traffic light.
“Did you know…” without glancing up.
I did not know.
And could probably have lived the rest of my life not knowing.
In the muted light of the bedroom,
We sit snuggled hip-to-hip.
I glance at her book, curious to see who I’ll be reading next.
A beautiful Sunday morning, smelling of sunshine and coffee.
In her chair on the porch, she’s curled up in an over-sized T-shirt and shorts.
Immersed in the news, she does not see how the sun on her face makes my heart ache.
In the Winter of our age,
our chairs pulled close by the fireplace,
her book settles quietly onto her lap as she looks into my eyes.
she’s reading me.