Scott takes me on a shopping spree for a late birthday present. No, wait. Make that a belated birthday present. Late birthday present means I'm dead already. I'm probably not, though we can never be sure.
He takes me to his favorite store at the Willow Grove Mall. Sears. Buy anything you want, he tells me. What a guy!
I never buy things I want. I only buy things I need. I am seized now with a vision. Pardon me my visions, will ya?
I want a lifesize replica of Jesus Christ down here in my family room. We'll work with the police sketcher who will do an as-last-seen sketch of the man before he made his getaway on Golgotha.
What anyway would I do with the lifesize replica? Perhaps sit him, walking stick & all, on the large vanity in the bathroom. I'll shove aside my new electric toothbrush and contact lens case to make room for Jesus.
Then I could see Him for consultations and solace any time I please.
Those of you who truly know me, know I am not kidding. I am a deeply devoted disciple who vehemently does not believe in an Afterlife.
I AM The Afterlife, roars in voice in my mind.
Oh, go fly a kite.
Ya know what? I'm an artist. Lemme make a lifesized replica of Jesus myself. Thank you Lord for the idea. I'll contact Jane Tamaccio & see if she'll work with me on this. She's my late brother's piano teacher & art teacher. Mrs. Tamaccio we call her in our family. She works with developmentally delayed youth so I fit right in. You can call me Peter Pan.
Scott & I return home from the shopping spree. I have received my heart's desire.... and go upstairs to take my monthly shower and dress. Then I return to our bedroom in the family room. Scott is at his accustomed place, lying in his jeans and Eagles sweatshirt on the bed, tiny barefeet curled up, and he is playing chess on the laptop.
He certainly hears me coming down the stairs. Usually he looks over. He continues to play chess.
Has he grown tired of me? Already? It's 2 and a half years.
Ahem! I say at the foot of the stairs.
Nothing. The man is rapt in his pawns and queens. Is he joking with me?
I stand there and clap my hands. I refuse to give it away that I am wearing the gift he bought me at Sears. I want to surprise him.
Finally, finally, he turns & looks at me over his shoulder.
His face breaks into a smile. "Welllllllllllll!" he grins. "It fits perfectly! You really look sexy in those longjohns."
In truth, I feel like a new person. These are matching top n bottom thermal underwear from the men's department at Sears. You'd probly have to go to Alaska to buy thermals for women. Two colors were available - white and navy. I chose the latter, holding them up to gauge if they'd fit me. I'm an expert in this, having held up baby clothes when my kids were growing up.
I am so attached to these skivvies I just wanna stay home all day & walk around in them. Make my phone calls in them. Roll around the floor in them doing my yoga. Daughter Sarah is a yoga teacher & when last I visited - was it last weekend? - we did some backpain-reducing postures on the floor. That girl knows her stuff.