Stupid phone
As she lay there wrapped up in his warmth, she wondered if she could get used to this. Was this what love felt like once the butterflies in your stomach died down? When you let the things that you were self-conscience over dissipate? He didn’t seem to care that she was overweight. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it. She wondered how someone who wasn’t anything like America’s Next Top Model could be loved? People got so hung up on looks. She wasn’t Pizza the Hut but the last two years had played havoc on her nerves and her waist line. He didn’t seem to care, should she? Did the size of your body really matter? Wasn’t it about what was in your heart that should matter?
She was soon asleep.
She woke to the smell of bacon. He appeared with a different pair of yoga pants and t-shirt on and a pair of the socks.
“Good morning sleeping beauty.” He smiled so wide she could see his teeth.
She couldn’t help but smile. “Good morning. Something smells good.”
“How does bacon and eggs sound?” He helped her out of the floor.
“Delicious.”
Esther heard Oscar’s phone ring. He rubbed his forehead with his finger tips before getting up to answer it. He was gone a long time. He had been picking at his breakfast, she was hoping he would come back and finish.
She heard him scream. A long, filled with anguish, beaten down scream. She jumped to her feet, finding him kneeling in the snow, his head in his hands were buried.
It broke her heart. “O.” With great care, she slid her hands across his back. He was shaking but she figured it wasn’t from the cold.
“I’m sorry.” He panted. “No one usually hears me when I scream.” He raised up, falling into her. “I can’t do this.” He whimpered. “God forgive me, I can’t do this.” She just held him not knowing what to say. “Help me.” He pleaded.
She kissed the top of his head, “tell me how?”
Sobs filled her ears, “I don’t know how.” He clung to her as he sobbed that much harder.
He woke in the house. Esther was asleep in the chair in the corner. Her book in the floor. He felt so weak and tired. A look in the bathroom mirror showed him that his face was red, swollen, and his eyes blood shot. God, help me!
Esther slid her hands around his waist, laying her head on his back. He cupped a hand over hers. “I can’t do this anymore Ess. There is no more fight in me.”
“Is this something we can do together?”
“I don’t know how. My family is killing me. How as a Christian can I tell them to f off?”
“If you were not a Christian, what would you do?”
“I want nothing more to do with them.”
“Where do you see the issue to cutting ties?”
The tone of his voice told her he thought she had lost her mind. He turned in her arms to face her, “the fifth commandment from God.”
“Honor the father and mother.”
“That has been drilled in me from birth.”
“May I suggest doing a Bible study?”
“A Bible study?”
“Yes.”
His heart lightened. “I like that.”
Poetry & More 
It’s a shame we take our cues for love from America’s Top Model.
I had a fellow at the bar yesterday who came from nothing, built himself a prosperous business, and sold at the right time. He moved out of California to the house on the hill in Reno. He just decided to divorce his wife of 32 years and he’s already on his phone looking at the “sugar daddy” sites.
On ne voit bien qu’avec le coeur. L’essential est invisible pour les yeux.
I’m afraid of where we’re headed.
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Sadly, this isn’t new. Poor and rich alike marry younger and younger women. My dad did it. There was 41 years between my parents. So many women feel like they have to have a partner. They will do anything to get one. That means competing with a much younger generation.
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