and baroque, manicured appearance.
Barbara Streisand records on display in the parlor
were a decisive give-away.
He said he was a teacher of special-needs children.
His mother left him the estate in her will
and he turned it into a Bed & Breakfast.
I know men like him who fled to the city
in their youth, delivering themselves
from the stranglehold of rural intolerance,
yet here he was, fledgling entrepreneur,
charitable volunteer, director
I know men like him who fled to the city
in their youth, delivering themselves
from the stranglehold of rural intolerance,
yet here he was, fledgling entrepreneur,
charitable volunteer, director
of the Presbyterian church choir,
as rooted in the red soil as the Cottonwood tree
that shaded my bedroom window.
I'd have liked to ask why a handsome gentleman
living alone in the dust bowl of America
had not turned his heels in search of companionship,
but thought better of it when he presented a photograph
of daughter and grandchild.
"The blessed outcome", he declared,
"of an awkward, high-school affair."
"Don’t the Lord fashion fortune from our folly?"
he added before retiring for the evening.
I lingered with that on the stairwell, pondering
as rooted in the red soil as the Cottonwood tree
that shaded my bedroom window.
I'd have liked to ask why a handsome gentleman
living alone in the dust bowl of America
had not turned his heels in search of companionship,
but thought better of it when he presented a photograph
of daughter and grandchild.
"The blessed outcome", he declared,
"of an awkward, high-school affair."
"Don’t the Lord fashion fortune from our folly?"
he added before retiring for the evening.
I lingered with that on the stairwell, pondering
the difference between luck and fate,
then straightened his picture wall
and signed the guestbook inscribed
with a verse from Psalms 139:14:
"I praise you because I am fearfully
and wonderfully made; marvelous are
your works, my soul knows it well."
In the morning, he prepared a table
of fresh berries and scones, poached eggs, coffee,
crème brûlée in homemade raspberry sauce.
Our dear Grandmother, for whom we traveled
many miles to celebrate a birthday,
remarked that our host reminded her
of the nice young man who designed
her home interior remodel.
"You're thinking of Cousin Jerry,"
her sister replied. "Such a charming boy he was.
Shame he never married."
of fresh berries and scones, poached eggs, coffee,
crème brûlée in homemade raspberry sauce.
Our dear Grandmother, for whom we traveled
many miles to celebrate a birthday,
remarked that our host reminded her
of the nice young man who designed
her home interior remodel.
"You're thinking of Cousin Jerry,"
her sister replied. "Such a charming boy he was.
Shame he never married."
**First published in Hole In The Head Review
