Posted By admin on June 19, 2013
First, Father’s Day. Then, a birthday in the house! Too much eating, shopping, preparing. Oh–and baking a cake!
But today, I’m back to work, and I can’t wait! In fact, I thought I’d leave a few words from the current proposal.
The following is the hero, discussing the heroine with his mom–who sees things pretty simply.
“Emma was claustrophobic here. She won’t stay after she feels safe to go again. No more expectations. No Candler ambition to push her along. She could dance wherever the raindrops fell after her parents imploded.”
“You might take a page out of her book. Loosen up on the responsibility and learn a dance step or two.” She laughed. “You don’t have to make everything in your life and in this town perfect before you find yourself some happiness.”
“Mom, why don’t we do yoga and contemplate the meaning of existence?” Her scowl made him smile. He pushed his palms down his legs and stood. “I was hoping you’d give me whatever was left over from dinner last night. If you’re not, I’ve got some errands.”
“I’ll make you a sandwich.” She stood, but then paused, her bandaged hand in the air. “I can’t really. You know where everything is.”
He didn’t wait for a second invitation to raid the refrigerator. Compared to the cobwebs and good intentions in his own, his mother presented a cornucopia of plenty. “You may be famous for your tea, but your fried chicken is a national treasure.”