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Humor June 2018

If Tomorrow Comes?

By Karen White-Walker

“I shudder when the phone rings. ‘Who is it? What are they saying? What do they want?’ he asks, all while I’m struggling to hear the caller. But when HE'S on the phone...”

She used to be a pretty little thing with a sprightly step and luminous eyes that reflected a happy heart. That was before…before…

We literally bumped into one another at the bookstore under the beauty books display, or was it the new age, supernatural section? Same difference.

“You’re aging gracefully,” this once-familiar face greeted me.

“Excuse me, but do I know you?” I embarrassingly asked.

“You certainly do,” she reassured me. “Together we attended all those support groups
for Alzheimer’s, grief and coping, PFLAG, anxiety and depression, anger management, Al-Anon and Gambler’s Anonymous, all because of our struggling relatives and friends.”

“The grieving and coping group was for me,” I muttered.

“Well, I’ve started up a new support group myself,” she explained — “The IHRABD.”

Started up a new support group? She looked like she didn’t have the strength to start up amatch! “IHRABD? Sorry, but I’ve never heard of that one.”

“It’s the IF HE RETIRES ACT BRAIN DEAD Group, and I’m Sally, remember?”

I tried to disguise my shock and sadness — the poor soul had aged a good 20 years in six
months’ time. I must be one lousy actress because old Sal correctly read my body language.

“It’s only been six months now since he retired,” she sighed, " but it feels like six years. It’s not all him though, because I don’t have the ability to block out everything he says and does.”

“Everything he says and does?’ What the heck is left?” I wondered aloud.

She simply shook her head and sobbed, right on top of a display of Fire and Fury, Inside the Trump White House. Talk about a double entendre!

“A 48-year investment and there’s no return," she continues. " I go to the refrigerator for a celery stick or carrot and disgustingly he asks, “Do you really think you need that? I shudder when the phone rings. ‘Who is it? What are they saying? What do they want?’ he asks, all while I’m struggling to hear the caller. But when HE'S on the phone...”

“Pull the plug,” I spitefully suggested, sounding not at all like my adorable, humble self.

But she was lost in her reverie. “Noontime rolls around and I’ll say, “George, do you want lunch?” Slowly and deliberately he repeats my every question. ‘Do…I…Want…Lunch?’”

“Maybe he has a comprehension problem,” I commented. “We do lose brain cells as we age, you know.”

A wife will always defend her husband to an outsider for she became very indignant. “Not my George; he plays Candy Land with our grandkids and wins every time!”     

Okay, so maybe she didn't exactly say Candy Land, but it was something comparable to that.

“Try concentrating on his positive points,” I smiled, sounding more like my old, sweet self.

Guess she was back to hating him for she became like a wild woman. “That’s the problem!” she screamed, “he’s concentrating too much on me!”

So many books, so little time for her to select the right one. We both spotted it at the same time, but guess what? It wasn’t really the right one — If Tomorrow Comes? According to old Sally, if they’re both retired and constantly together it’s WHY does tomorrow come? They better forget about a book because it looks like they'll never be on same page. She's not alone.

 

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