The Marrying kind of Love

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I wish I had a simple love like my Mama & Daddy had. Always giving and always kind.  And although Daddy knew better than to cross Mama in turn Mama knew better than to be cross with Daddy when he screwed up a bit.  Mama never spoke of Daddy in a harsh way and told me more than once that forgiveness was the most important thing she ever gave him.  I’m not exactly sure what she meant by it but I suspect it had something to do with his taking a nip or two out of that ever-present bottle wrapped in a brown paper sack he kept under the seat of his truck.

Mama was a card-carrying member of the tea-toting party.  Everyone knew this about her.  Not once while I was growing up did I ever see any kind of spirits in the house.  She did not allow it.  I was a married woman before I learned of the bottle under Daddy’s truck seat and only then because my husband told me about it.  Seems he had enjoyed a swig with his father-in-law during one of those male bonding things.

When they came inside all hell broke loose.  Mama was none to happy her sweet new son had been baptized by the spirits and gave them both a good tongue lashing on how to stay out of hell.  The next morning she cooked some waffles for them as promised.  My husband loved her waffles and it didn’t take much for her to put some together for him every chance she got.

As they aged their bond got tighter.  Two withered little people sitting on the couch holding hands and whispering to each other and gazing into each others eyes like they were still sixteen and spell bound by each others presence.  I want a simple love like that.  The caring.  The sharing.  The strongness of it all.  I want what my Mama & Daddy had.

 

 

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