Sometimes when searching for something to fill the empty space in my mind, and I am done with the recalling of past memories, I slip into the imagined or dreamlike state which I can almost convince myself is real.
Dorothy did not like to be alone so for several years she would spend the weekends at our house. She almost always brought the fixings for a special Sunday dinner, including the recipe, all the ingredients and even her favorite mixing bowl. She liked to cook and we enjoyed the meals she prepared. But I remember most the evenings when Dave had gone to bed and we would watch TV. Rather she would watch her crime-solving show while I worked on the New York Times Sunday Crossword. Oddly enough, she who never cried for herself during the horrors of her too-late diagnosis and painful medical treatments would tear up every time they played the theme of the particular show she watched. I can't recall the name of the show, CSI something, probably, but the music leading into it had a most eerie quality.
Broaching the sometimes fine line between the real and the dreamlike, I can recall some of the conversations we did have and I can imagine what we would talk about now, if that could be. Tonight, one of the news shows featured a volunteer who was helping with some organization to provide Christmas cheer to children. He was a nice ordinary-appearing man, and was speaking on camera, while on his head was a pair of antlers. The thought passed through my (empty) mind that he did bear a resemblance to a reindeer, with a mild, rather long face. And as he spoke, he nodded his head toward the camera, in kind of a horsy, or reindeer, fashion. Dorothy would have found this humorous to be sure, and we would have engaged in those back and forth silly comments. I can almost hear her laughing. Almost.
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