An October Engagement
He likes to give magic at Christmas. Antique bronze kaleidoscopes, first edition fairy tales, hand painted lockets.
Like most writers, he sees the world uniquely, finding the greatest meaning sitting unnoticed between the lines.
He sees humour in the the prosaic, beauty in the commonplace.
He makes me laugh.
He checks the locks and slays the bugs.
And I feel safe when I’m with him.
He loves The Beatles and Saint-Saens Organ Symphony #3.
He reels me in whenever I drift too far out to sea and cuts me loose when I need to fly.
I once caught him singing to Apple as he brushed her black coat.
If you're going to San Francisco
Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair
If you're going to San Francisco
You're gonna meet some gentle people there
Apple hates being brushed. She wiggles and squirms, rolls on her back and bats the brush with her paws. But that afternoon, she lay as still and calm as sleep. I’ll never hear that old song in the same way again.
Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair
If you're going to San Francisco
You're gonna meet some gentle people there
Apple hates being brushed. She wiggles and squirms, rolls on her back and bats the brush with her paws. But that afternoon, she lay as still and calm as sleep. I’ll never hear that old song in the same way again.
As teenagers, we were best friends. And then when we were older, on a gold October day, we went on a picnic to a mountain lake. He asked me to marry him. For years I had planned, as every girl does, how I would react to this question if it were ever put to me. I intended to respond as I imagined Grace Kelly would ... softly saying, “Let me think about it overnight”. Instead, I grinned like Christmas and said, “Of course”.
That was many years ago, and every year since, on the same day in October, we pack a picnic lunch and head back to the same mountain lake. We've never missed a year.
And I still say “Of Course”.
