Sunday Morning

It was glorious as Sunday mornings tend to be when the sky is blue as a field of cornflowers and the Sun steps away from His throne to kiss you into awakening. She stretched lazily and opened an eye to survey the time. It was not quite worth it to get up and feed herself yet. She listened to the cheerful debates held by the birds who had decided to convene on the tree near her window; she drifted off into a reverie with thoughts like cars speeding over broken up country roads. There seemed to be a thing between her and broken up country roads. Her peace was murdered by the sound of the telephone ringing. She wondered why she bothered having one and answered. It was him. What could he possibly want that he hadn’t already gotten or taken. He wanted to see her. How lovely! It was Sunday morning and she was going to church. He would simply have to wait. Annoyed to the very framework of her DNA, she rose and put the pot on for coffee, for some decidedly strong coffee, then proceeded to give attention to her toilette.

She was met with the warmth of smiles as she entered her pew. She always had a kind word for everyone. There was an enchanting atmosphere in the church- the light coming through the stained glass windows made it seem as if there were fairy lights all around and there was a solemn scent in the air enhanced by the majestic tones the piano master coaxed out of his instrument. She gave her thoughts to God, though they were scarcely graceful at the moment. She was churning like the ocean in the midst of a hurricane. She was a little tamed by the sight of the suffering Lord as she lifted up her indignant eyes. She was a lamb. She exited the house of God strengthened until she noticed him standing there nonchalantly by the side of the building. He had never gone to such extents to see her. Curious.

He watched her move towards him. Now that was poetry, not that nonsense they had tried to teach him in school. He had forever considered her to be the most beautiful woman of his acquaintance. Some questioned his judgment. They clearly neglected to notice the witty expression of her undescribable eyes with golden flakes in them, those eyes that like Zeus shot thunderbolts when she was roused to ire, that were like languid lakes when she reclined in his arms. They did not note how her cheeks turned strawberries and cream when he complimented her in ways that forced her to chide him nor did they see how her hair fell in soft, radiant masses like the earth in his garden. Her figure was hardly fashionable, but there was no softer or lovelier place for him to fall.  She was like a ripe fruit, he could not resist wanting to taste it. Still, he had left bruises on her uncommonly generous heart, overtaxed her patience, and too often resisted her common sense wisdom. He meant to come and ask for her hand in marriage, but at the moment he was not sure what he was going to say to her.

She stopped in front of him. Her insides were trembling but she presented a stoic face. “Well, Jacob?” “Where can we talk?” “I suppose I must ask you to my house…I hope you don’t mind a half hour walk.” “Not at all, but, are you aware that there is a church within ten minutes of your house in the other direction?” “Yes, but I like this one better.” “My Naomi has always been an odd fish.” “I am not one of your belongings. At any rate, why should you think me odd for preferring one place over another? If the feel of that Church, its priest, and people were more suited to me, I would go there, but they are not. The walk provides me with time to think.” “Yes, hmm…but I did not come to talk of churches.” “It is apparent you have little use for churches. I am aware and sure that you have come to speak of much more wounding things, but I should like to collect my thoughts before I endeavor to listen to you.” He thought that that was one of her more unforgiving speeches. They walked in silence the rest of the way, only every once in a while they would furtively glance at each other when they were convinced the other was not looking.

She opened the door and allowed him to invade her home. She then pressured him to sit down in her favorite chair and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on so that she could play hostess as her mother had once painstakingly taught her. He came into the kitchen and sat down, saying he preferred it. Damn it. He’s still dangerous. Curse my weakness, but I will manage him. She handed him a tea cup and some haphazardly scattered cookies on a plate. With a tea cup to occupy her hands, she could speak to him. He seemed to want to say something but didn’t. He was intently studying the hue of his tea. “Naomi…I…had prepared a speech…but I look at you and understand how little right I have to ask anything of you…and when I look at you, I see the gentle woman you are and understand how often you have shown yourself to be twice the man I am. I don’t want to present you with any more excuses or count out all of my wrongs…they are so many that I have lost the right to try to justify. I am prepared that it may mean absolutely nothing to you if I say this…but I am deeply sorry for the way things turned out and I cannot adequately describe how much it has tortured me. I realized…perhaps a little late…that I am in love with you…that I…love you…I was afraid of it before…but I’m not now…I want to marry you, Naomi…I want to raise your children…I want to spend the rest of my days showing you my love. Please, tell me that you will at least consider the idea.” “In short you want everything I once offered you wholeheartedly. I think you want it only because I walked away and it tortures you that I no longer cling to you as if you were the center of the universe. It’s a little difficult to take your proposal seriously.” “You taught me what I had lost” he said quietly and hung his head” but I understand if you can’t take me seriously.” “I want to, you know” she said just as quietly.

They both left each other that day neither knowing what the future would bring for such is life, such is human nature. We are doomed to ever surprise ourselves.

Reviews

[kmartell]

GOOD start. Where will this go. I could go in various directions. The writing style doesnt have pretension. Very well done piece of writing.