The early evening air was rich with dense humidity, carrying the rumble of a thunderstorm trailing in the distance. The smell of fresh rain and wet wood perfumes the air with a desire to seduce the primitive in you. The chorus of crickets and cicadas vied for our attention, as hushed bolts of heat lightening flickered quietly in the sky.
There was a beautiful stillness in the living room. Phillip and I sat quietly as he hung up the phone with his father. If you recall from my previous post, this was Phillip’s birthday. We had gone to Retro Records to browse, had lunch at Beefy King, spent three solid hours outside of the house having such a wonderful time.
We then came home, settled ourselves when Phillip’s father called. I don’t care how wonderful our day was, between you and me, this is the birthday present that Phillip truly wanted. I know my husband. I could feel when he got that one phone call that his heart burst with a proud joy. His birthday was a success. He was so excited talking to his father, couldn’t wait to tell him all of the wonderful things that have been happening in our lives. The poor boy rambled like an over excited fan. “And then, and then, and then….”
It was adorable. And I was so happy for him. He hung up the phone and we just smiled to ourselves, sat back in our chairs, and gave one of those sighs that whispers, “My life is really nice….”
Phillip pipes in, “So, what do you want to do now?”
“Oh, put on a record! Oh, yes. Let’s listen to our new records!”
You should have seen Phillip at Retro. Now, I’ve been going to this store since the 90’s. I know the secret. Hard pressed, fresh vinyl, either collectible or newly minted, is all eye level. And that stuff can be pricey. So, I told him to sit on the floor because all of the fun, cheap $2 records are all in cardboard boxes on the floor. That is where the real collectors look for stuff. We both plopped and instantly the man saw the promised land, he got it and starting pulling out record after record.
Our haul was perfectly eclectic. A touch of Loretta Lynn, scrambled with a Beggar’s Banquet Sampler, with a hint of hula dancing music, mixed with a little Mancini. Phillip sorted out what we’d listen to first. I went to grab a manly granny square I’m working on. What can I say? All the squares inspired me…
For hours we sat there talking, laughing, crocheting while listening to old records, sipping whiskey and googling flowers for Honeychurch.
This complicated world that I cannot change with a hash tag was pushed a million miles away.
And left in it’s stead was the crackling from the scratches on the vinyl, the chatter of the insects, the rustle of heaving branches waving in the wind, and the cough of thunder in the distance that kept us comforted between songs. This was a beautiful evening with someone I loved. The beauty was that I could see that he felt loved. And there isn’t anything more beautiful in the world than watching someone beam with smiles when they realize they really are loved.
If you’ll excuse me, the madness of the world and all of its grievances is going to have to wait. I’m having the best time with someone who is actually happy with their life. Cheers.
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