Occasionally on a Holiday Weekend

Occasionally on a Holiday Weekend

When the whim occurred, Ted would venture into the garden taking notice of the golden rays filtering through the leaves and the way a sundrop would glint on the lacquered surface of a favorite guitar.  The shimmering visage pleased him most, until the tone arose when he caressed a chord – the vibrations spread through us and continued on –  the different way sound dissipated outdoors stimulated him in the way something uncommon produces a newness.

On rare occasion only –  when a calm quietness settled into the surrounding area- a fortuitous holiday weekend that seemed to send everyone out of town.  Those dreamy afternoons when we had the world to ourselves.

Other days a restless and insistent Quincy would implore us to play.


When Ted and I shared many a holiday: We were never group participators, parade goers, torch holders.  When something was worth celebrating, it was with a quiet respectful understanding we alone acknowledged.   Barbara

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