January 21, 2006--Saturday Story: "My Liver? It's In Edible Condition"

“My Liver? It’s In Edible Condition”

This is a story about a love letter. From my father to my mother. While he was quarantined up in the Adirondack Mountains, with a form of TB. It’s dated about six months after they met, well before she fought to marry him.

Growing up, my favorite days were those when I was sick. Not that sick, but sick enough to stay home from school but not too sick to enjoy the soap operas on the radio, tea and toast served by my mother, and the chance to play with her button box and clothespins. These she brought to me on a wooden breakfast tray. And truly best of all, she brought them to me in my father’s bed where I would be ensconced until I passed two days without any fever.

This was in part to take me out of my bedroom, which I shared with my younger brother, bringing me into a version of isolation to protect him. But there may have been another reason why my mother set me up this way, in the bed besides hers. Though I was too young to know if that was true much less understand why. Perhaps it was all to keep my germs away from Leonard. Then again, maybe not.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

I had quite a cold this week and my mind was as congested as my brain. Thus, this is all I feel good about sharing. I'm feeling much better and promise the rest next Saturday.