Perhaps
This picture was the subject of another post over at Pleasant Ave a while back.
Looking at the couple, you might assume they have sat on that beach, together, yet apart, every summer Saturday for the past 50 years. Except of course, for the years that they spent out of the country, working in Singapore and Italy. And of course, not the year that their first child drowned at Palm Beach.
He worked hard and long hours, enjoying golf and the beach in his time off. She was a teacher when they met, at a dance held at the surf-club 100 meters from where they sit now. She left teaching and stayed at home to raise their 5 children. She enjoyed weaving as a hobby, in the seventies and eighties. He secretly disliked her woven creations, and was not saddened by the recent replacement of her formal-lounge monstrosity, with a Guy Gilmour original.
His busy working life, is now a not-so-quiet retirement, what with all those grand-children to mind now and then (all the time). She is still busy, having replaced caring for her own children, with caring for grand-children, and volunteer work teaching disadvantaged children to swim.
Lately, she has noticed that he sometimes forgets words. She lies awake at night worrying for him, and still he refuses to see a doctor. He has noticed himself that he sometimes forgets words, he'd just rather not know what that means. And secretly, he loathes that rainbow umbrella and the constant attention of strangers it draws to them, as they sit, together, yet apart, on their beach.
Looking at the couple, you might assume they have sat on that beach, together, yet apart, every summer Saturday for the past 50 years. Except of course, for the years that they spent out of the country, working in Singapore and Italy. And of course, not the year that their first child drowned at Palm Beach.
He worked hard and long hours, enjoying golf and the beach in his time off. She was a teacher when they met, at a dance held at the surf-club 100 meters from where they sit now. She left teaching and stayed at home to raise their 5 children. She enjoyed weaving as a hobby, in the seventies and eighties. He secretly disliked her woven creations, and was not saddened by the recent replacement of her formal-lounge monstrosity, with a Guy Gilmour original.
His busy working life, is now a not-so-quiet retirement, what with all those grand-children to mind now and then (all the time). She is still busy, having replaced caring for her own children, with caring for grand-children, and volunteer work teaching disadvantaged children to swim.
Lately, she has noticed that he sometimes forgets words. She lies awake at night worrying for him, and still he refuses to see a doctor. He has noticed himself that he sometimes forgets words, he'd just rather not know what that means. And secretly, he loathes that rainbow umbrella and the constant attention of strangers it draws to them, as they sit, together, yet apart, on their beach.
Labels: assumptions, beach, growing old, love, marriage, maybe
posted by Callisto at
3/31/2007 10:15:00 PM
5 Comments:
I do this too. Sometimes I sit in a crowd and pick out random people and just try to imagine what their story must be. I love this post! Thanks for sharing.
An anecdote borne out of fact....perhaps?
A great photo, and like yourself and square1, I too sometimes see something and invent the backstory.
Oh and I LOVE oysters. They're found treasure. And they taste like a whole ocean in one gulp.
Dude. Talk about a window into the interpreter's mind. Coolness.
Square1, thank you. Imagining lives up for strangers is one of my favourite pastimes.
Rich, nod, nod, wink, wink, say no more...
Overnight, inventing is fun. And you LOVE oysters - cool. I think your blog is a found treasure, but I don't imagine it would taste like a whole ocean in one gulp.
Rich, Dude! :)
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