Mother was widowed at fifty-four. A couple of widowers in their seventies called showing interest. One was an elderly Pentecostal Preacher who showed up with a three-page poem he’d penciled on pages torn from a three ring spiral binder. The kicker was, he’d admired the way she’d waited on Daddy hand and foot. He knew she’d make him a good wife, too. Hard to believe she’d turn down such an attractive offer.
After a time, Mother moved into town and developed a tepid friendship with a neighbor man, Maury. Unfortunately, Maury’s health failed, but not before Mother’s interest in him. She realized then she didn’t want another man friend. When another neighbor man, John, showed interest in Mother, intending to discourage John, she explained she had a friend, Maury, who wasn’t doing too well. Some weeks later, the Maury died. John stopped by a time or two to see how her friend was doing. Evasively, Mother told him. “He’s about the same.” I suppose he’s still “about the same.”
Afterwards, when asked if she’d ever thought of marrying again, Mother always replied,”No, the only thing wrong with men is they keep breathing in and breathing out.”
If you enjoyed Kathleen’s stories, check out her memoir on Amazon. Authored by Linda Bethea Illustrated by Kathleen Swain
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