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While stitching pieces of fabric on a Sunday afternoon, I kept tabs on a 1954 movie starring Jane Wyman and heartthrob Rock Hudson, titled Magnificent Obsession. The heartthrob enticed me to watch the movie, but the title drew me in and convinced me to follow through. I had to know what the obsession was.
The clouds hid the sun, making it possible for me to sit comfortably in the car while waiting for him at an appointment. In my hands I held a book titled The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder, and the last three chapters remained unread. I had been saving the ending for this block of quiet time. With the windows down and cool breezes blowing, I delved into my reading, as people walked down the sidewalk and pulled in and out of parking spaces around me.
I finished two chapters and began the last one. Right away, the author pulled at my heartstrings in such a way that tears began rolling. I reached for a tissue and dabbed my eyes, hoping that passersby would not notice a blubbering woman sitting in a car outside a medical facility and wonder if she had been given some devastating news. I kept on reading words and dabbing tears until I had read the last word on the last page. Then I closed the book and sat there, relishing.
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Someone near and dear yet far away handed me a paperback to read and keep. My heart skipped a beat at the thought of him even thinking of bringing me one of his favorite reads. As handsome as he is intelligent, he lives miles away from me, and our paths cross a couple of times a year. He is a youngster. Well, actually he is in his third decade, but he is a youngster to me.
Standing with him in the sunshine that afternoon, I looked at the title of the book he had just given to me: Howl's Moving Castle. Uh-oh. I felt conflicted. Happy over his thoughtfulness; uncertain about the book.
🌿🍁🌿🍁🌿 W hile stitching pieces of fabric on a Sunday afternoon, I kept tabs on a 1954 movie starring Jane Wyman and heartthrob Rock Hu...
