(no subject)
Florida's too hot for this Canuck. I love the people here. I think they're insane for being able to actually move around outside during the day, but I love them. Everyone's been incredible.
I couldn't sleep most of last night. Too much tea. They can take away many things, but if you try taking away my tea, you may feel my claws. I don't bite often, but when I do, I'm usually going for blood. There was a wonderful little old lady walking the floor of the hotel last night, just down from Michigan. She'd come down to escape the rain and the lonliness. Her husband of 40 years passed away in January. He just made it to her 69th birthday, and then lost his battle with his kidneys. She smiled as she told me. It was obvious, the depth of her love and respect for this man, with whom she'd spent the vast majority of her life.
She said that she came down here, because they came down every year. This was her way of celebrating every good memory that they'd held together, of every past Florida excursion. That she was still learning to sleep without him lying next to her, one arm curled around her waist. That she was taking him along on her beachcombing for sand dollars the next morning, in the form of the hat he'd given her three years before, and one of his naval pins, stuck in the brim.
I tried to talk the man at the front desk into letting me pay for her stay at the hotel. He said that she'd already been payed up.
So, I've called the record company, and am sending this sweet old lady's granddaughter some free stuff. It was the least I could think to do, for letting me hear her story. For sharing with me.
Tell me a story?
I couldn't sleep most of last night. Too much tea. They can take away many things, but if you try taking away my tea, you may feel my claws. I don't bite often, but when I do, I'm usually going for blood. There was a wonderful little old lady walking the floor of the hotel last night, just down from Michigan. She'd come down to escape the rain and the lonliness. Her husband of 40 years passed away in January. He just made it to her 69th birthday, and then lost his battle with his kidneys. She smiled as she told me. It was obvious, the depth of her love and respect for this man, with whom she'd spent the vast majority of her life.
She said that she came down here, because they came down every year. This was her way of celebrating every good memory that they'd held together, of every past Florida excursion. That she was still learning to sleep without him lying next to her, one arm curled around her waist. That she was taking him along on her beachcombing for sand dollars the next morning, in the form of the hat he'd given her three years before, and one of his naval pins, stuck in the brim.
I tried to talk the man at the front desk into letting me pay for her stay at the hotel. He said that she'd already been payed up.
So, I've called the record company, and am sending this sweet old lady's granddaughter some free stuff. It was the least I could think to do, for letting me hear her story. For sharing with me.
Tell me a story?