Mafar and Holly Brown
My wife travels to quilt shows with a lady named Holly Brown. I like to think I’m Marfar’s best friend but a woman needs a lady best friend too.
I don’t know what they talk about when they ride down the road, but I am confident the subject of husbands must come up from time to time. I can hear Marfar now. “I cooked a nice tenderloin for the Quilt Guild and Tommy and those Neuse River Boys ate the whole thing after band practice.
Holly might respond, “I understand. Matthew got off the tractor yesterday and washed off his boots in the tub. Then he started singing ‘Red Clay Halo.’
“Oh well, gotta love ‘em.”
Holly is smart. One thing I like about her is when I do something dumb I bet she helps Marfar figure out how to live with me rather than get shed of me.
I go out on their trips every so often. I sit in the back seat and play my mandolin, and they say it is more entertaining than the radio. It’s about like a little boy going to the park on a summer day. They drop me off at a local golf shop while they go to the show. I can always get a game. You can count on there being a grill where they have the best hot dogs in the South, and sometimes after the round I’ll hit a bucket of practice balls. By the end of the day I’ve made a bunch of friends and all but joined the club. At the appointed time I change shoes and wait in the parking lot. Marfar and Holly don’t miss by more than five minutes.
They drive me back home. Sometimes I’ll fall asleep and they wake me up when we get there. In my job, and much of my life, I’m always taking care of someone. On those outings though, I am but a child in tow, and they take care of me. Every time I’ve tagged along I’ve had a good day of it. Even an old man enjoys a couple pretty ladies making a fuss over him and taking him to the park for the day.
Dr. BExplore posts in the same categories: Writing
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