I'm not sure when it started, but I know it accelerated after Cliff had heart bypass surgery, this feeling that death is living in our house, a tangible presence.
Cliff and I have the strangest conversations these days.
For instance: Today Cliff was talking about the furnace filter, and said, "By the way, if something happens to me, you need to know what to tell somebody what to do with the furnace filter, because it's a 'rig'."
"Cliff," I told him, "I don't intend to stay here a month, if something happens to you."
"Really?"
"Really; what would I do, anyhow? I don't drive. I'd have to get me a man really FAST, to get 43 acres taken care of. I'll be moving to an apartment in town someplace, on a bus line."
"Oh. OK."
"After all," I pointed out, "this place is about you and me together. The only thing that would bother me about selling it, even now, is that I'd have to part with Blue... so don't you DARE croak until Blue is dead!"
That's an example, but you get the picture. Death walks with us and talks with us every day, lately.
I will stay if I can. I don't know how. I cannot imagine myself living in town.
ReplyDeleteWell, we have those conversations, too. We're weird, though, like you guys. If something happens to you, Dad can live here. If something happens to Dad, you can stay here. BUT!!!...be nice? ROFL just kidding. I love you both, and I'm pretty sure your lifestyle will cause you to outlive me!
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