DÉJÀ VU

Thoughts of Bob followed me all day long.

First thing I did this morning was go out and check my garden boxes for dry soil (they can all wait another day or two), deadhead, glean, and hand-pollinate. Everything is right on schedule and doing good 😉

Thoughts of Bob were with me in the garden area: Bob built the garden boxes for me; Bob built the rain barrel stands, for me; Bob helped me repot the apple trees - Bob's imprint on my life is everywhere.

I am really happy with the apples this year; they are a becoming a nice, full size. Just right for pies :-D

Green zucchini on the vines.

Celery shooting up; Butternut squash spreading.

Spaghetti squash setting squash, and climbing the trellis that used to have peas climbing up it.

I gleaned some more Mascara Lettuce and a few more Blueberries.

The corn is doing very well this year: 6 feet tall!

CORN SILK! Corn is setting :-D

Yellow zucchini on the vines.

Tomatoes setting and ripening.

Fennel bulbs are plumping up.

All 4 rain barrels are filled to the brim. That makes me happy :-D

The original plan after tending to the garden area, was to go for a morning hike on 48^th. BUT, when I got into the car and turned the ignition on, KUKN Country was talking about the garage sales again out Lexington & Headquarters Road way … so, I went that way :-D

Change of plans …

Thoughts of Bob were with me as I walked the Garage Sales.

We had bought our 2^nd local area home in Lexington; it was a good area to purchase in, and it served its purpose for several years after Bob retired. We worked side-by-side to completely overhaul it … we painted ALL the rooms to suit our tastes; we pulled up the old stained carpet and had new laminated wood floors laid; we replaced the woodstove; and Bob revealed carpentry skills I didn’t even know he had (he reframed ALL the doorways and hung new doors, replaced ALL the room moldings – base wood, doors & windows, painted the front porch/steps and the back deck, and designed and built me 6 roomy raised garden beds). We totally remodeled the kitchen. Bob had told me he helped his dad to build the house he lived in in Cathlamet when his Dad, Mom & younger siblings moved to Toutle his Senior year, but I had NO IDEA what an excellent carpenter he was! Bob never did anything half-assed: whatever he did, he excelled at. When we sold, to move here, we sold for triple what we had bought for – and bought the house I live in solo lobo now, with a third of the sale money … remodeling this house with the remaining sale monies. We always bought small, built up with my ability to spend Bob’s money wisely (we did all the labor, I only spent monies for what we could not do ourselves), and sold large: Bob liked that frugal ability of mine. He knew his income was safe with me because I always increased it.

The kids don’t know what they are talking about when they hatefully say I spent Bob’s money willy-nilly: Bob trusted me with his money, and we went over the budget together – ANY MONEY SPENT WAS A JOINT DEAL; and both of us knew how it was spent. I never gave Bob any reason to distrust me – at any time/with anything. Bob’s mother was always bitching about how the other 2 DIL’s were “bankrupting” her other sons, and I said to Bob, “Your mother will never say that about me because I will never give her a reason to say that about me.” I was shocked (1) that rose would dare to say that about her DIL’s (2) that her other sons would allow her to say that about their wives. I never touched Bob’s wallet except when he told me to get some money for him … and then, I always brought it to him, and said, “You get it out – I meant what I said: your mother will never accuse me of stealing your money. My fingers will never probe your wallet.”

Every payday, we sat at the kitchen table together and worked over the budget, paying each bill together. The last time I touched his wallet, was after his physical body died and I was collecting his personal effects after becoming a widow. I still have his wallet in my purse – it comforts me to see it next to mine. I am getting Bob’s Social Security allotment each month because that is what Bob told me to do: he had it set up that way days after we married – it is not a fortune, but Elohim is faithful to stretch it for my monthly needs with a few $$$ for frugal weekly daytrips Bob would want me to take, as we always had; I am still paying the same bills … and I miss Bob sitting next to me, going over the budget and helping me dole out the money he worked for, all his life. I miss Bob not being with me on daytrips; or garage sale trips.

Bob wasn’t really interested in garage sales when we first married, but he went with me because I liked to go to them. Eventually he started looking for tools that couldn’t be found anywhere but at garage sales (stores no longer sold them). And when I decided to have a sale at our homes, he was the guy with the cash box because he was better at making fast change than I am: he was a fast thinker and a human calculator. He even helped me set up the tables and price items – it became a mathematical game to him. Bob got a bang out of watching me sell our second-hand items at a good price; he would shake his head and grin when I’d get more than he thought it would sell for – he used to tease me and say I had ‘the Midas touch’. And he liked the interaction with customers: Bob was a social butterfly, he liked chatting with people, and people were comfortable with him – he was a people person.

His mother – and his children – can kiss my ass. None of them have ‘a right’ to say one way or the other how Bob and I spent our life/OUR money together. They have no right to assume how I am spending it now.

Nada – zip.

Yeah, I am still irked with them all.

I loved Bob from the moment I saw him; and Bob loved me from the moment we met, until the moment he stepped off this planet – Bob trusted me with every material thing he had; and placed it all in my hands the day after we married. I was scared to be responsible for his paycheck and shoved the checkbook back at him, saying I didn’t want the responsibility; but Bob laughed and said he trusted me. I was 17, and he trusted me with our whole life. I loved Bob; I learned how to run our home within the restrictions of the monthly budget – the frugal restrictions (((I))) set to fit his paycheck and to give us a good life that wasn’t slave to debt. I was a good wife to Bob – anything Bob trusted me with, I increased … love, a life, money, children, food, home. Bob loved me, and he appreciated that I was trustworthy/frugal/and productive; he gave me a good life because he could trust me with that good life: I returned that love, and honored him by helping him to increase the good life we enjoyed together.

We had a good life for 44 years: Lexington was part of that.

Going back there today was not easy, but I knew I had to get over that hurdle; so, I went to the garage sales on the streets we used to walk – the only space available for parking was directly across from our old house there: I deliberately avoided that sale; I couldn’t have done it without remembering the love that was sheltered there; and breaking down. I only walked 1½ miles this afternoon because my heart couldn’t take any more ‘familiar territory’. I got some good deals, Elohim blessed me by answering my prayers on several ‘finds’ … but I had to leave without finishing the whole loop. Maybe next year, my heart will be stronger.

Lexington was hopping today.

Every street was packed with cars and wandering pedestrians.

New additions to the neighborhood was this house, and an apartment complex going up on another back street. We've only been gone from Lexington since June 2017.

LOVE THIS STREET! Pro-America - that's a good thing :-D

A cone shaped hydrangea.

A weird shaped apple tree.

1-6.5 miles - would easily have been 3+ miles if I'd done all the streets.

I couldn’t remember how Bob drove us to Headquarters Road, so I called Bob’s sister, Merry, and asked; it was simple to get to, but we hadn’t been there in quite awhile and my memory was a bit rusty 😉 I had to do a little freeway driving – which was not the way we went (Bob always drove the backroads because I like country roads), but I wasn’t on the freeway for more than 5 minutes before I turned onto the overpass access - so I didn't have time to get frazzled on the freeway; thank Elohim! Freeway driving really stresses me; there's just too much going on at the same time.

Every garage sale marker was off the main roadway … and they were ALL gravel mountain roads: e.v.e.r.y.o.n.e.o.f.t.h.e.m. At this sale, I bought an armload of books – the bulk of them telling the story of the Boyeln sisters (Mary & Anne) that led to the birth of Queen Elizabeth I:

I am a sucker for anything Anne Boyeln & Queen Elizabeth I. I am a strong woman; so, I like reading about other strong women 😉

Back on the main roadway again, I was surprised that it didn’t go all the way through: it used to. I don’t know when it was closed to through traffic, but suddenly there was a gate across the road – maybe that’s why Bob hadn’t taken me there in quite a while …

Headquarters Road is a gated dead-end.

It was time to call it a day and head the car towards home.

I was glad I went. And on my way back home memory kicked in and I recognized landmarks on the backroads all the way back to the Lexington Bridge. I know now know how Bob drove us there. I’ll never have to touch the freeway at all 😉

And another memory kicked in too: that memory was so vivid and so emotional, it made me pull off the road to have a cry. At one point just before the Ostrander Store, déjà vu hit, and I could feel Bob with me – my mind’s eye could see a younger version of him driving that stretch of road: the clothes he wore, the way he sat, the cigarette between his lips as he shifted gears in the old ’56 Ford, the way his hands were on the steering wheel, the way he turned his head to grin at me and pat the bench seat beside him in a “scoot over here, honey” way he always did.

I almost couldn’t breathe.

Tears stung my eyes because I knew he wasn’t really there – the road was still there … but Bob was not.

It was just déjà vu tripping my emotions.

Thoughts of Bob were running down my face in hot, scalding tears.

So, I passed the Ostrander Store and pulled over in a wide turnout as soon as I could until the tears stopped:

Lexington Bridge Drive from Headquarters Road - 12 mins.

The déjà vu moment was like time had rolled back: it felt like I was reliving that past era, in that particular part of the backroad. All in a 12 minute span of time.

N Pacific Ave as it crosses Lexington Drive Bridge.

Heron Pointe from Lexington Bridge Drive - 17 mins

I was happy to get home.

And I was pretty pleased with my haul when I got it all inside – the shovel and screen in the shed, and the rest in the house :-D Most of what I came home with, I prayed to be able to find …

Bread pans, books, a bird house, wicker paper plate holders – the rest was just bonus finds 😉 I really scored with the picnic basket. Most things were 25 to 50 cents; nothing over $3 (birdhouse & picninc basket). I am vey frugal - I make my pennies scream for mercy.

Winter theme rustic birdhouse. I clipped the hanging wire off; it's decorative, not weather resilient.

I bought this book because of the title – I almost laughed out loud when I saw it, because I can identify with the title.

Bob turned me onto the Clive Cussler novels. I prayed I'd find some ... direct answer to a specific request.

This coffee mug called out to me; so, I bought it.

The mug’s message fits my life right now ... the 2 little covered casserole dishes are the perfect size for meal for 1.

These nice sets of silverware came with the picnic basket – inside the pocketed placemats; I didn't know they were part of the deal until I removed te basket liner and placemets for washing. Have I already mentioned that I really scored on the picnic basket?

As soon as I saw this little shovel, I snapped it up: It's a perfect too to use it in the garden boxes Bob designed and built for me to garden in.

I snagged this free screen to use over my Spring garden transplants while they are setting root and getting established.

I was glad I had this cart today. Our granddaughter, Alyna, saw it one year in a knockoff store we were at, and talked me into buying it; about 18 years ago 😉 It gets used a lot when garage sales are in full play.

Today was an exciting day in the veggie garden.

Today was a blessed day at the garage sales.

Today was a day of memory jogging.

Today was an emotional day.

Today was also a day of growth and moving forward progress.

I am thankful for the whole day – from start to finish. I don’t mind thoughts of Bob bursting into my day. Bob was a huge part of my life – Bob will always be a part of my life. It is only right that he should share a portion of my thoughts while I live the life he made for me.

And maybe someday I will be able to think of my husband without breaking out in tears of missingness.

WASHINGTON STATE 2020 PRIMARY RESULTS

MYTERIOUSLY DISTURBING

This afternoon I had an appointment with the dentist – I had to submit to a temperature check first off – I was fine at 97.5F; I had to have my blood pressure checked – I was told I was doing fine; especially being at the dentist, which would elevate anyone’s blood pressure 😉

Spartan Dentist foyer; most of the furniture has been removed due to covid.

There was a LOT of poking, prodding, examinations, ect. … but NO ACTUAL WORK was done: again, I was told a “cleaning has to be done first.” This is my 2^nd appointment. Exactly WHAT is going to get DONE, WHEN? My mouth has been examined twice. I have been charged twice for doing nothing more than opening my mouth. I have been sent home twice with papers telling me how expensive “the work” will be – but I’d like some ACTUAL WORK DONE before I fork out anymore moolah. Just sayin’. It is going to be expensive, but I do not need dentures and the dentist says the most important thing is to make sure the foundational teeth bone “is stabilized” to head off the need for dentures in the future. I don’t know; it seems to me the ‘most important thing’ lately is bilking me for money I feel had been unfairly forked out: if I spend big, I want WORK DONE – not yap flapping. I’m paying for a dentist, not a shrink.

I’m scheduled for another appointment next Thursday.

I felt my blood pressure increase walking to my car with papers in hand.

Anyway ...

Leaving the dentist’s parking lot, the car started screeching. So, I looked at the dash to see what was happening. All I saw was a yellow triangle flashing: no notifications. So, I checked the dash doodads and they all seemed to be where they should be – the screeching apparently did not concern them. The screeching got louder, and a thumping started; the back tires kinda locked up. I thought, “What on Earth?” I pulled over and got out and checked my tires (they were okay) – I squatted down and looked under the car again (saw nothing out of the ordinary). I got back in the car and started moving … immediately the screeching started again – and yellow triangle was flashing: no notifications.

I stopped the car again – the screeching stopped when the car stopped. I started the car – the yellow triangle started flashing in step with the incessant screeching. I checked everything: windows (all closed); all the dash apps (everything seemed normal); all doors – including the back hatch (all closed). What the heck was going on? I decided to take it into Dick Hannah Toyota in Kelso. Again. I was just there for the windshield; Dick Hannah is becoming my second home.

As I was headed towards the Allen Street Bridge, the left back wheel started shaking and seriously locking up. Then the thumping got real LOUD – at one point it sounded like the backend came undone. I thought, “Oh shit. I must have seriously done something I can’t see to the underside, Sunday; on that horrible mountain road.” I was pretty shook-up at that point and was wondering IF I would even be able to get to Toyota. I passed a little white pickup sitting at the stop sign across from Burgerville and zipped into a wide spot at the edge of the blacktop. I was praying to God I hadn’t damaged the wheel axle. If the muffler was hanging, I could drive it lurching to Toyota … if the axle was broken, I was screwed: it would have to be towed.

As I was jumping out of the car … to check the back end one more time … I saw, out my peripheral vision, that the little white truck had pulled in behind me and the driver was exiting his truck. He asked, “Are you okay? Are you having transmission trouble?” I glanced at him while glancing under the car; again – and said, “I’m okay. My car is not okay.” He said, “I know – I heard it when you drove by. Do you think it’s your transmission?” I replied, “I don’t know what’s wrong with it but it’s starting to scare the hell out of me. I don’t know what a bad transmission sounds like, so I don’t know if that’s the problem or not. All I know is it behaves when it’s standing still, and goes crazy when it’s on the move. I was on a badly rutted and potholed mountain road last Sunday and the backend hit pretty hard twice. I hope I didn’t damage the undercarriage. The racket is awful, and the back wheel feels strange.” He said, “I’ll look it over for you.”

He checked the back tires – said they were fine. He got down on the blacktop and looked underneath – said everything looked okay. He checked the dash and said he didn’t see anything there. He said, “I have an app scanner in my truck, that might help.” He went to his truck and got his scanner; he plugged it under the Highlander’s dash and we waited for the readout. He explained what the scanner was doing and showed me what was happening. He is a mechanic.

Good Samaritan.

He had a scanner that would pinpoint the exact issue. He didn’t find any; and was worried enough to thoroughly check the car over before I drove away.

The scanner didn’t show that anything was wrong with the car. We were both mystified. WE BOTH HEARD THE CAR’S RACKET! He said, “this is a mystery; where are you headed?” I told him I was headed to Toyota in Kelso if the car would make it that far with out exploding. He said, “Toyota is quite a way off from here. Everything checked out – and that is weird. Let’s see what happens when you back up.” So, I backed up (nothing: silence and free movement: no yellow triangle/no screeching). He said, “Go forward.” So, I moved the car forward (nothing; silence and free movement; no yellow triangle/no screeching). I didn’t know if I should be happy or seriously worried. He motioned for me to roll down the passenger window – I did. He said, “We have a mystery here. We both heard what we heard. The tires seem okay. I didn’t see any damage underneath. It seems to be behaving at the moment – hopefully you will get where you need to get and have it checked out. Make sure they lift it and look underneath. Have them do a thorough checkout.” I said I would, and I thanked him.

Then I took off with a hope and a prayer.

The car behaved all the way to Toyota.

I prayed the entire way across Kelso ...

(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2020/08/sundayfunday-16-ive-earned-my-wings.html)

I was shaking by the time I pulled into their maintenance cubby. I really wanted Bob with me. I told the girl what had happened and she took Bob’s key fob. I went into the lobby to wait. I waited 3½ hours to be told “can’t find anything wrong”:

Bob would have been able to describe the noise to everyone's satisfaction.

Spartan Toyota foyer due to covid.

Toyota Maintenance Shop checked the car thoroughly: inside-outside-underneath-rotated tires. FOUND NOTHING! The diagnostics and chechout was covered by Warranty. Thank God.

I couldn’t believe what I was being told.

I know what the car sounded like.

I know what the car felt like.

It is a mysterious disturbance.

But I know the guy speaking to me thoroughly checked the Highlander out – he showed me the diagnostic paperwork; he drove the car for a ‘make sure’ drive … and then did it again to satisfy me and assuage my concerns. I am glad I did not damage the car on the Gifford Pinchot National Forest roads last Sunday ... and I know I should be glad there was nothing found today that needed fixing. And I am: kinda. It was scary though - an explaination would have been welcomed.

I just left it in Elohim’s hands at that point, and drove home.

When I got home, I decided to drive to Skamokawa and get Supper at the Duck Inn - the car behaved. The mysterious disturbance remains a mystery. The Captain’s Platter I ate there a few weeks ago was good, so I thought I’d repeat that again tonight: I did. I also decided the day called for a beer … so I ordered a non-alcoholic beer to drink with my fish supper – it’s not actually void of alcohol, but it is very weak in alcohol and will not intoxicate. That works for me since I am now a solo lobo doing all the driving:

Brought half home to eat later on ...

I had 1: I know how to self-discipline; but O’Doul’s is nonintoxicating beer. It’s basically flavored water. Totally safe on every level.

Driving home, along the river, I saw a sailboat (couldn’t find a spot to pull over and capture the frame); a tugboat, and a ship. I don’t like water … but I don’t mind watching boats move through them. I know – I’m a weirdo 😉

Tug pushing a barge on the Columbia at County Line.

Ship anchored off Willow Grove.

Close to home, I passed the spot where Doug died 24 years ago. Seeing the memorial kinda put my day into perspective: cars can be fixed – death is final. There’s no fix for that …

Linda faithfully tends Doug's Roadside Memorial; Linda is the only 1 left out of her entire family. She is ‘the baby’.

HARD TIMES – LOVE CARRIES ME

August will always be a hard time for me: the whole month – doesn’t matter which day.

August was the month we decided to get the Marriage License.

(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/08/when-we-married-in-1974.html)

August is our Anniversary month.

(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/08/amber-alert-nearly-ruined-my.html)

August is Bob’s Birthday Month.

Bob. August 30th, 1949

August was the month I took my husband’s cremains to the family cemetery.

Private moment before everyone started showing up.

(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/08/between-now-and-then-until-i-see-you.html)

August is a bittersweet month that juggles the hard times that derail me; and the undying love that carries me forward.

Bob’s physical body died … but his love lies on.

My King Bee always treated me like his Queen; wrapping myself in that unending love keeps me sane.

Derailment all year long happens, and it comes screaming around the blind corner of life at unexpected and unforeseen moments – it slams into you before you even recognize it.

But, this month – the month of August is the hardest for me to “ride it out”: SO MUCH happened in the month of August.

Too add more complications to what I am already juggling; I am meeting more and more people in my solo venturing’s, that either are going through pancreatic treatments/know someone who is going through pancreatic treatments/or have been diagnosed with pancreatitis. I do not know any of these people … but I am intimately familiar with the language they speak, the symptoms they describe, and treatments they are going through/facing.

This month I have met two.

And I am sure I looked like a startled deer caught in blinding headlights.

That one word – pancreatitis – literally causes me to freeze up.

Though Bob’s pancreatitis was a rare form of the disease (his pancreatitis was stress-induced) – it is ALL familiar: the word spoken aloud/the fear-tinged hope spoken/the bravery in the face of hovering Death.

Heartbreakingly familiar.

And while I can talk about those 3½ months of Bob’s ER ordeals, misdiagnosis’, major heart attacks as his shutting-down-body went into shock, the crushing edema that led to starvation and dehydration – Bob’s valiant fight to hang on for my sake, his heroic Faith and vibrant retelling to everyone he spoke to of his testimony of salvation, his never-ending upbeat personality in the face of impending death: while I can and AM talking about those hard months filled with tamped-down anxiety, dark hope, bittersweet laughter, hand holding, kisses, and eternal love – without falling apart, or collapsing under the weight of missingness … I don’t let myself get involved with these strangers’ situations.

I can’t.

I don’t want to be catapulted backward in time.

I don’t want my senses to recall the impact of being told, “Your husband is dying”. I don’t want my senses to be overwhelmed with the memory of the hospital sounds/the smell of the hospital ward/the beeping and blipping of medical machinery/the muted sounds of hospital busyness/the compassionate and sad tones Drs, nurses, surgeons, and medical staff workers used when speaking with us/to me.

I don’t want to be pulled into their hard reality.

My reality is hard enough for me.

That may sound selfish and uncaring … but that is where everything is right now, at this moment.

I am still dealing with the death of my husband’s earthen vessel; I am still coming to terms with the reality of my widowhood. I am barely holding myself together. I simply cannot take on someone else’s heartaches right now. I have come a long way; but I have not come that far.

Yes – Bob was placed in a hospitalized ‘comfort care’ situation: but the comfort was still painful to go through – for him, for me, for our kids, for his family members that were there. Bob did not feel pain … but he knew he was leaving me in the pain of his eventual absence, and he knew the kids would inflict pain on me. They always had. And they did.

We all (hospital staff included) surrounded him with love. Bob was an easy man to love. He gave love while he lived … and he deserved love as he was stepping off this planet. I am forever grateful his leaving was surrounded by love.

Bob’s body died a good death – if such a thing can even be said about a passing. While I personally did not experience what Bob experienced (so I have no 100% proof that it was ‘good’), I can say with authority … because I was there … that he was in a peaceful frame of mind when he breathed his last breath and his spirit was walked into Heaven. To me, he appeared to be sleeping. It seemed like his passing from this life to the next was a good passing. I am thankful he did not feel any pain; I am thankful there was no struggle to let go.

(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2018/12/widowhood.html)

Bob knew he was loved in those final months; weeks, days, hours, & minutes. I told him “I love you, Babe” 24/7 for 106 days – can it really be that everything wrapped up so breakneck fast: and yet took so excruciatingly long? He was surrounded by family members that touched him, kissed him, spoke to him, and was WITH him those last few lucid hours of his life here on Earth. I am glad Bob left this world knowing he was loved.

I miss him: my mind’s eye still sees his smiling face and that sexy smile aimed at me. My heart, so full of the love I was born to give only to him; still aches for his love in return. My body still burns for his touch – a touch my body will never again feel. My thoughts, when not reined in with a firm hold, incessantly screams; “I miss Bob – I miss Bob – I miss Bob!”

I am still dealing with the loss of my husband’s presence in my life. I am still coming to terms with the reality of my widowhood. Upsetting that apple cart by delving deep into someone’s heartache causes hot and stinging bile to rise in my throat, makes my nose and eyes burn, makes my head spin with exploding anguish, causes my heart to race with pangs of grief, makes my hands shake like I have palsy, makes me dizzy with spiraling emotions, and makes my chest hurt as I struggle to breathe – my whole body literally goes into shock with the fresh reality of Bob’s absence in my life. I am barely holding myself together. I simply cannot take on someone else’s heartaches right now.

Yes, I do talk about Bob. I do occasionally talk about those 106 days that changed our lives forever. But I talk about those things when I choose to talk about them: I don’t like being blindsided; I try to avoid derailment that comes screaming around the blind corner of life at unexpected and unforeseen moments – I actively go out of my way to avoid head-on collisions with Grief.

It is ironic that we moved here, to Heron Pointe to eliminate more stress from our life … and unforeseen stressors here, inflamed a Pancreatitis flareup that killed the love of my life. Bob had only lived in this house with me for 14 months before the neighbors paranoid bitching landed Bob in ER following an egomaniac home visit tirade by the Park Manager, egged on by the paranoid bitching – both the paranoia and home visit was unwarranted; and my husband’s body never recovered from the damage inflicted. In 18 months after purchasing this house, I was coming home to it as a newly made Widow. 19 months/23 days/14 hours & 23 minutes later, I am still trying to adjust to my new status in life.

August started our life together; and August started unraveling our life together.

August blessed me with unimaginable joy in 1974 – and August pricked me with unimaginable pain in 2018.

August will always be a month when hard times threaten to suck me under … and triumphant love carries me through the storms Grief hits me with.

DO YOU REMEMBER?

I was asked the other day: “Do you remember your 1^st kiss? The first one that really mattered? That made your knees go weak and your insides flip-flop?”

I didn’t even have to think about the answer – I KNEW!

Bob did not give me my 1^st kiss: but Bob gave me THE KISS that “really mattered”.

Every kiss Bob gave me mattered – from the 1^st to the last”.

April 19^th, 1974: our 1^st date. Joy & happiness!

All Bob had to do to make my knees go weak, was look at me and smile that sexy smile of his: the kisses we shared were brands on each other that said, “I’ve waited a long time for you, and now you are mine. Always.”

But the clincher kiss … THE ONE that REALLY MATTERED … he gave to me 4 months after the 1^st; on August 27^th, 1974 at 9:30 PM. That was our Wedding Night kiss – the kiss that “clinched the deal”.

August 27^th, 1974: our Wedding Night - knees buckling & stomach doing flip-flops. HE CHOSE ME FOREVER - this was "the real deal" :-D

The kiss that will carry me through a lifetime.

EVEN NOW ...

Bob and I had eaten Supper in Longview, then went dancing one hot August night in 1974; at a dance club in Longview on Vandercook: above the Chinese Restaurant that was there then.

This song was blaring from the mega speakers that had the room shaking as we paid the door fee, had the back of our hands stamped, and ordered our beers. Mr. Clean was playing with his band ... AND HE LOOKED EXACTLY LIKE the Mr. Clean guy.

Even now, I can see it all clearly in my mind’s eyes, like it was only yesterday.

I was only 17, but I wasn't carded because I was with my 6'2 gentle giant – who splayed the small of my bare back (I was wearing my holey jeans and a halter top) with his large hand as we moved through the crowded room: and the door bouncer figured I was old enough if I was with my protective fella ;-)

I didn’t like other guys putting their hands on me in a possessive way … but when Bob touched me in a way that transmitted to other males, “this girl belongs to me”, I didn’t mind. I liked that Bob wanted to get that message across. I liked that Bob felt protective with/towards me. I loved Bob. And I loved Bob’s hands on my body; I liked the sound of my name coming out of Bob’s sexy mouth. I liked the way my body responded to his fingertips branding my skin with his tender and gentle love – and I liked the way my whole body tingled when he breathed my name.

I miss the sound of Bob’s voice.

I miss Bob’s hands.

I miss the way he could ignite desire by simply touching me and saying my name.

Even now, 44 years later … plus the 19 months/22 days/11 hours & 44 minutes he’s been living in another realm of life … the sky is still burning – and he is still my soul’s desire.

Hot summer nights will always remind me of those hot summer nights with Bob; who my mother thought was ‘bad company’.

Hot summer nights will always remind me of the 4 months when we were young – when we couldn’t stop touching each other – and when the world was our oyster.

I love you, Babe.

Always ~ OX