Tomatoes in the Rain
My sister wrote me the best e-mail. I love it because it personifies the little worries (or neuroses) that she and I share and the ways in which those who truly love us attempt to ease those worries.
Last night, in
He crawled back in bed and Mary, feeling bad, said she was sorry and that she was thankful. They closed their eyes.
Then, about ten minutes later, the storm began to subside and the rain let up. Mary’s eyes opened again. She turned anxiously to her husband, “Ben? What if the plants are leaking their water all over the wood floor?”
So Ben got out of bed once again, went downstairs, and put the well-loved tomatoes outside again on the balcony.
And they all lived happily ever after… Maryann, Ben, the tomatoes and the parquet floor.