"Husband on a Stick" - Thursday Thinking Out Loud, by L. Zern
My husband and I are of a certain age—not as old as some might assume and not as young as to be so foolish as to think that guzzling gallons of sugar water will make us immortal.
You know! A certain age.
You know! We had four children when it wasn’t hip or cool and those children have now given us seventeen (almost) grand-children. We’ll take it. Our nest is empty most of the time except for Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays.
Actually, they come and go on Sundays. Enough said.
We are of a certain age that is contemplating the inevitable next step in this journey we call . . . life and living.
You know! A certain age.
Because of being a certain age, our conversations have shifted from “What’s for dinner?” to “If you go loopy first, and I don’t go loopy, I’m still coming to the old folks home with you. Deal?”
Or this recent conversation . . .
Settling in for another night together after forty-six (almost) nights together, I said, “Scratch my back!”
Husband scratches my back: think two bears getting ready to hibernate.
Suddenly, I realized one possible future. “Geez, when you’re not around anymore. Who is going to scratch my back?”
Husband, silent for a long drowsy moment, finally suggested, “You could always get one of those dried out alligator feet on a stick.”
“What are you saying? I could replace one whole husband with a single alligator foot on a stick?”
“Yep,” he yawned. “You know one of those back scratcher things.”
“I’m not sure how to take that.”
“Be practical,” husband added. “In fact, Conner (our grandson who works at a local Florida animal attraction) can probably get you an alligator foot on a stick for cheap since he works at that alligator place.”
Later, when I related the sad tale of our growing age related concerns, my son-in-law offered an additional bit of advice. “Shoot, Conner could probable get you one of those alligator feet on a stick for free, but it might only have two toes left.”
And this is how we’re planning to enjoy our sunset years, come what may and loving it.
Linda (Old Momma Bear) Zern
