Posted Monday, May 20th, 2013
Thatís my husband on the ground
his head under some old ladyís car, changing
her tire. She says she didnít think people
stopped anymore. I tell her heís the last
of his kind. We make small talk about needing
to learn to do things like this ourselves,
but neither of us has any intention. The spare
is low, the valve stem blew out of the original.
My husband is telling somebodyís grandma
these details. She seems to be listening, but
I am focused on the sweat that is not forming
on his forehead. He spins the jack with ease,
removes lug nuts like he was born to labor.
I watch his fingers turn the bolts, gently at first,
increasing speed just before they come
loose. He fits the spare onto the axle, wiggles
it into the perfect position, screws it
all back together. The woman is still
talking, but I am already miles down
the road, at home, on top of my husband,
making him glad he was a good Samaritan.
Comments [post a comment]
Posted by Sadasivan Dr. Neelakantan [ firstname.lastname@example.org
] on Tuesday, May 21st, 2013 at 8:25 AM
This indeed an honest stream of thoughts by a woman about her hubby as she gets to watch her hubby at his routine work.Stylistically too it is pleasantly informal.
No woman,whatever be her source of income, official status or marital position, is ever without thoughts of being wonderful to her man in bed basically because she represents the Life Force at work.ALL ELSE is secondary to her justification for existence.