Friday, May 30, 2003
When I came out of the post office this afternoon, an old man crossed my path, singing something under his breath. He was so cute, so obviously having a good day. He got in his car, and I had to walk past the open window on the passenger side, and he was still singing. I decided that it was an old Nat King Cole or Frank Sinatra tune, because he just had that about him. I imagine that he has a just-as-cute wife at home, waiting for him to finish running the errands. Maybe he'll bring her lunch, or maybe she'll have sandwiches waiting for him. They'll sit in a kitchen with faded wallpaper and he'll sing to her as they finish preparing thier meal. It's sunny and they are both in a good mood and they talk about thier next vacation. I imagine that they still hold hands and smile flirtatiously at each other. They'll rinse thier dishes clean when they're done and he'll swap her with a dishtowel. He's still singing to her. She'll give him a 'what are you doing, silly man' look and put something classic on the cd player. I imagine they'll dance in the living room for the afternoon, talk about the kids and grandkids and when they first met. I imagine that he still sings under his breath whenever he sees her.