“What are you doing, La Flor?” I asked.

“What does it look like? I staring out the window. I wondering what life is all about. What is life all about, Ray?” whined La Flor.

“What’s wrong? I’ve not see you so low?”

La Flor turned me. The woman wasn’t wearing makeup. She looked like she belonged in the church choir. She was wearing a sweatshirt and jammy bottoms. And, it was two in the afternoon. She is seriously down.

“Take a good look at me, Ray. Do you see it?”

“See what?” I asked.

“I didn’t touch it. I won’t touch it. Don’t you touch it. It’s contagious,” she said.

“What? You look great,” I lied.

“I can tell when you’re lying,” she said.

“You can?”

“Yes. You try to sound sincere,” La Flor said.

“You men. You’re all the same. Where’s LC when I need him. He’s at school. There is no one here to dote me. Cater to me. He’s exhausted when he comes home. He doesn’t want to go out. Chef school is killing our relationship. It’s making age before my time.”

What does a sensitive male do in these situations? I Google, “what does a sensitive male do in these situations.” Google’s first answer, “Are you serious?” I asked Siri, “what does a sensitive male do in these situations?” Siri answered, “You’re obviously a male. Your species is not sensitive.”

La Flor spoke, a hint of tears in her eyes, “What am I going to do about this, Ray.”

I looked at La Flor pointing to her head, “Your head looks fine. What’s wrong?”

“A gray hair. A gray hair. A gray hair,” she screamed.

I bent closer to look at the agent of evil, the gray hair. I said, “Did you hug Big Carmen yesterday?”

“Yes?”

“I think it is his hair. It’s not attached to your head.”

La Flor raced to the bathroom. I heard a scream of joy. A shout of exhilaration. A howl of delight. The shower turned on. I heard music playing. Her world was turning around.

An hour later La Flor walked out as if she was heading out to wherever the beautiful people head to in the late afternoon.

Before she can say a word. “Beautiful, tough, and edgy one, I am home to beg use forgiveness.”

Enter Little Carmen.

“It’s too late. You’re history. You’re in my past,” said La Flor.

“I want to dote on use. I want to cater to use. I want to jump tall buildings for use,” pleaded Little Carmen.

“Really?”

“Chef Vigeli kicked me out of school today. He said he’d just as soon die as to keep teaching me.”

“I love that man. Shower, shave, and let’s boogie, ” said La Flor.

All was right again.

 

 

By Ray Calabrese

I am an optimistic, can do, and never quit guy. The spirit of hope indelibly marks my DNA. My research at The Ohio State University helped people discover the best in themselves and change their personal lives, public organizations, and whole communities. I bring the same spirit and enthusiasm to my blog to help those who grieve who find themselves suddenly alone, navigate their grieving. Join my more than 24,300Twitter (@alwaysgoodstuff). I promise my tweets are always good stuff. Please feel free to email me at ray.brese@gmail.com.

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