To our children, and probably to most people, we old scrotes are basically dessicated grumps with a tendency to flatulence, halitosis and falling asleep at table. I can live with that.
But once, many many years ago, I was young and lovely. I met a girl and fell in love at 9 in the morning, spent the day with her, and thought I would die when I waved her farewell at 7 in the evening.
Nothing like that had happened to me before, and nothing like that has happened to me since. Many many years later, I wrote a story called "Summer Blue Eyes" about the incident, reversing the roles so that I was the girl and my chance lover was a boy with summer blue eyes. It seemed less painful that way.
I will not write more, because I am sure my children are already embarrassed, like catching an old man in the act of changing the batteries in his hearing aid. But if you have not seen the movie, The Bridges of Madison County, please see it now.
I can't watch the end of it, because I don't want to be reminded of the moment when I said goodbye to my love with the summer blue eyes.
Sorry if I embarrassed you. I tell you what, why don't I fart and relieve the tension?
2 comments:
Not embarrassed, just curious, was Summer Blue Eyes published?
Please don't fart, though, that would be embarrassing;)
I was embarrassed at my own silly reminiscing, Nea.
Yes, it was published by Penguin. I wrote three books of short stories for them some years ago. The idea was to write "very short stories". In fact I began to think of them more as overgrown anecdotes!
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