“Malachi,” she said. “Where have we been
all these many years? The white, starched shirts,
silk ties, my Gucci handbag, pot roast on Sundays…
and four children we don’t really know.
Forty years, drained like running water.
Down a pipe. Where does it go, Malachi?”
He watched the happy light in her eyes
fade to faraway reminiscence.
“Rosie, my love.” He reached for her cheek,
started to answer, then paused to consider the
measure of their lives, the years rolled away.
“It’s gone,” he agreed. His eyes held hers.
A tear rolled from corner of Irish
green eyes, gathered speed as it crested his
apple-shaped cheek. He led her then, gently,
to kitchen sink, turned the water on,
and placed their palms together beneath.
Through tears, he smiled. Her understanding grew.
“Love… flows on.” She spoke the words slowly.
Malachi pulled her closer, held her.
A knowing passed between them that can
only materialize when two people pledge their
very lives to each other, when they live days that
pass too fast side by side, hand in hand.
I met Jerome on a busy city street in Baltimore, Maryland, when he was forty-five years old. On that particular day, I was out and about, enjoying a much-needed day off from work.
I wanted to purchase a sukiyaki sub. I parked my car in an area of
“Being a couple yet free is our next challenge on the evolutionary ladder. This book successfully helps us unravel the myths that block that achievement. It does it with warmth, with readability, and with balance. It recreates everyday problems and
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Blue eyed fish...