Tuesday, April 24, 2012

On Being Scrambled

Dear John,

I had a nice talk with your mother tonight - it seems that she and I are both being normal. Disconcerting to be normal, but I suppose it can happen to anyone. 

There's good news on the legal front. The will won't need to be probated since everything was owned jointly and there is nothing to distribute. But I'm getting good advice and have good backup, so that side of things feels much better. 

Jen flew home today. I miss her, but realize that I need some time alone now. Except for the 55-pound lap dog, of course - there's nothing that isn't made better by warm dog fur. Except an allergy to dog fur. And my unwillingness to form a complete sentence. 

There's not much to say tonight, except that I'm sorry I got so mushy yesterday. That much honesty probably wasn't necessary. But you know how I feel anyway. Tonight it's good just to sit here and know how near you really are - how thin the veil is between this world and the next, and how short earthly life is compared with eternity. I remember years ago when Leon and Glenda said about marriage, "You can't unscramble an egg." I'm glad for that inseparableness, and I have no desire to be unscrambled from you. We have, on occasion, been accused of being thoroughly scrambled, in every sense of the word. :)

Your loving, scrambled-up wife,
Joan.

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