Beautiful Again

I was working on something and suddenly she was sitting there with her chin resting on her hand. I could not have more surprised.

"Would you like some company?" she asked.

I had sworn to myself that if I ever saw her again I would not even speak to her.

"Sure," I replied. "I'd love some company."

God she was beautiful. But she looked different somehow; tired; more mature; still absolutely beautiful; and those eyes.

Then I woke up.



It was summer, 2010. I was 68. I was walking down Logan Street, returning from a colonoscopy that had hurt like hell. I had a feeling that this would be my last summer. I looked intently at the green trees and blue sky.

How beautiful, I thought.