Today's word is visit.
We're also linked to The Weekend Brew.
Used to be, folks would set (not 'sit'...why?) on their porches and visit with the neighbors for a spell...
What's a spell?
And when did you last see a modern house with a porch? (When I lived in California Suburbia, I hung out in the garage, with the door open, and the neighborhood kids positively flocked to the place...but not for me. They wanted to cuddle up with my Pit Bull, Kareem.)
Visiting with them was fun, but time snapped the reins and I wound up in laces where visiting wasn't practical. I got out of the habit, and lost the knack.
And I recently realized that I don't know how to visit at all, any more, even with my wife.
Sure, we talk, en passant, in the kitchen or in the living room or in the yard, but I cannot recall the last time we sat down together and just visited.
It's been years. The last time I remember, we went out and looked at the stars, and exchanged the odd word. (The occasional word, I mean...most of the words themselves weren't odd...well, some were...uh, where was I?)
Oh, right. It's a nice memory, but we just don't do that now. Early this morning there was a big glowing cloud in an otherwise clear predawn sky, and I asked Barbara to come look at it as it grew and turned salmon-pink, long before the sun touched anything.
Still don't know what it was...if a cloud, wouldn't it have been there when the sun came up? It was gone by then. Totally.
But we didn't visit. We talked about what it might be, and that was it.
And in a way...this is bad...but in a way I was relieved.
Because visiting is a form of intimacy, and that can be scary.
Even, or especially, with one's wife.
If you have a moment, please stop by at my other blog, Starting The Day With Grace.