Speaking The Same Language

Last night I was sitting with my Sweetie in a McDonald's parking lot, eating a Frosty from Wendy's, while we were watching people standing in line for Italian Ice at Rita's.  Think about that for a minute...The point being that we love to get away from the house for a little while, eat a delicious treat, and just spend some time talking.  The added bonus is that I am an avid people watcher.  Some people prefer to bird watch but I love to watch people.  You can learn a lot about someone just by watching them.  But that's a blog for another time.

I think that talking has become a lost art.  Sure, people talk...but sometimes I think they talk at each other; not to each other.  People hear what someone is saying but I think most often they either don't care or their mind is wandering and the message never gets where it's supposed to go.  So, me and Mrs. Kirby, we like to get away and just spend time talking...about everything and anything.  We I wasn't always good at it, but I'm getting better.  Those of you who know me will know that I am a talker but I'm not always a good listener.

The other day I was in a restaurant and sitting at a table to my left were an elderly woman and her son.  If I were the Age Guesser Guy at the Fair, I'd say she was in her 80's and her pig nose son was in his 60's.  She tried to engage her son in conversation but he wanted nothing to do with it.  He wanted to eat his ribs and fries smothered in barbecue sauce and leave.  He seemed upset that he had to take his mom to lunch.  She seemed like a burden to him.  (I told you I was a people watcher...)  I thought to myself that I would give anything to be able to talk to my mom one last time.  Funny how people's perspective change once someone is gone from their life.  I was mad at this guy for not talking to his mom but at the same time, I know I didn't take enough time to talk to my mom while she was living.  I guess I'm not that much different than Mr. Pig Nose when it comes to our mothers.

So last night we talked about our kids, my job, and the fact that our first grandchild will be here very soon.  I made observations about the people at Rita's and then after narrowly missing my shirt with chocolate from my Frosty, we went back home.  The thing about Donna and me is that we speak the same language.  No, not English...we speak the language of two people who have known each other for 37 years now.  Nelson Mandela once said, "If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head.  If you talk to a man in his language, it goes to his heart."  That's what I'm talking about.

Well, now it looks like there's two ways to my heart...one is through my belly (I love to eat) and the other is by speaking my language.  I think my wife knew that secret all along.  She's not only cute but she's smart too.

Be Well.

Bill