I am a man of few bad habits, but those that I do have I
practice with zeal. Acquaintances may describe me as stunningly damaged. I am a
home. I mean I own a home. It is full of my possessions, tables and chairs and
the like. I avoid other things. I have a picture window overlooking a yard that
I own and all the grass on it. It is like my neighbor’s but we are different:
both greenish brown to brownish green though. I am four sport coats with
matching slacks and two nice suits. There are shoes that I own. Most contain
leather and laces. I had a bicycle once, but now own none. A Mazda. I own a
Mazda that is paid for. It takes regular gas and regular gas is what I give it.
In my wallet are money, a button, two credit cards, a spare house key, a
driver’s license, and business cards that I am handed that are mine now. I make
coffee, but seldom cake. I eat cake, but buy it in the store with other bread,
meat, fish, dairy, fruit, and pasta in the grocery aisles. I take them home to
my cupboards until I am ready for eating. That is usually three times a day
depending on the cake. Maybe four with cake. I am overweight. My wife is a shoe
store manager who lives with my brother-in-law’s best friend now and even
though it didn’t work out I am not angry with her. I am smiling inside. I see
who I please now which is better than you may think. I imagine it will start
soon. I will buy her flowers and a card, my new girlfriend, to show how deeply
I care. “Relationships are everything,” it will say, and I will mean every word
of it. I will clear some space in my closets and then ask her to place some
clothing there depending on which season it is at the time. We will buy flowers
together and plant them on Sunday after breakfast. Neighbors will walk by with
appreciative smiles. Lare. She will brush my ankle and call me Lare. I will
sigh and call her by her name but shortened also. Months will pass and when we
are ready I will show her my ceramic duck collection and ask her to marry me.
What a happy day that will be. She will take my name and we will live together
in my house for many years to come. Our doormat will say Welcome All.
This article appears in Nov 27 – Dec 3, 2002.
