By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris
I watched a man today, an older man he was, walking quick as can be from the store across the parking lot to his truck where he’d left it you see.
Toddling far behind, each step
appeared laborious with no obvious nomenclature, was his wife of as many years, but much rounder in her stature.
He didn’t seem to notice, didn’t seem
to mind that his wife of many untold
years, he’d left so far behind. He dropped his small shopping bag into the rear gate, slid beneath the steering
wheel where he proceeded to just wait.
The stout woman trudged along, her eyes straight ahead. Her feet seemed to lag behind the swaying of her head. She neither smiled or grimaced in her wake while she struggled on alone. Her husband of a long, long time sitting idly while she climbed into his truckish throne.
Not once did he relinquish his kingly domain to offer her assistance, this woman who bore his name. She pulled and she clambered to take her seat so high and before her belt was fastened tight, onto the highway he did fly.