“Hi, Marla, I haven’t seen you in such a long time. And the strangest thing is I was just thinking about you, wondering to myself, how’s Marla Jensen been lately, while I was over in the produce aisle.”
“I’ve been alright. Could be better. My sister’s in the hospital with pneumonia. This time it’s pretty bad. The doctors placed her in a coma to help her recover quicker.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Shirley’s always been so very kind to me from the time we were children. I remember years back when we were in Kmart, and saw her together with your mother, my two boys thought she and your mother were sisters. Upon finding out it was your mother with her and not her sister, the children were amazed at how you your mother looked. It sure made her feel good.”
“So, what have you been up to these days, Cara? Still at it with your writing? I remember when I last saw you three years ago, you said you were working on a book. Did you ever finish it? I’ve been looking for your name online when whenever I’d surf the internet, because I was hoping your book would be published so I could buy a copy of it.”
“It was published a year ago. I used the name Bess Mutton for my pseudonym. It’s only available online thru print on demand. The name of the book is If The Desserts I Walk Were Gateways To Somewhere Else?”
“Ooh. How nice. I’ll be sure to look for it on Amazon. Sounds interesting.”
“Yes. It’s a combination of fiction, poetry and philosophy. I strived to incorporate all three areas of study. There is also a little psychology in there, as well.”
“How Dill doing these days?”
“Oh, honey, my husband died. Dill passed on a little over a month ago from liver cancer.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. I don’t subscribe to the paper. I rarely buy a copy if any at all. He was such a good man. So very nice. You know something, my family and I had always admired the way he had a charisma and aura about him. Such a happy person and a charming disposition.”
“He’s certainly missed. I’m trying to make it on my own without him. I do have our two children, their spouses and my four wonderful grandchildren. Babysitting my grandchildren is one of the few joys I have to take my mind of off my grief of missing Dill. However, I do visit his grave often at Remington Cemetery just to be near him and talk to him. I like to tell him about my day like I always did when he was alive. I know it sounds strange to do such a thing, but it is some form of comfort to me.”
“Not at all. Not at all, my friend. There’s nothing crazy about talking to someone who’s passed on. It’s really know different than one confiding his or her troubles to the Lord. I like to believe our deceased loved ones are still around us somehow, and they are not only watching over us, but they see and hear everything going on in our lives.”
“Thank you. Your words are of such comfort to me. Listen, I’ve got to be going home now. But why don’t you and I get together for coffee sometime. Perhaps you can come by on Sunday at noon. I still live at the house I grew up in. When my mother died, she left the house to me. It’s on Ruddy Street.”
“I’d love to stop by for coffee, dear. I look forward to it.”
“Great. See ya then.”
© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2015
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