a template of tenderness retold in the sunny kitchen today while I flounder in attempts to persuade mr. wood to sell his truck to someone who could use it (me).
mrs. wood: your father and I shared a moment on the drive home yesterday
ms. wood: oh, really?
mrs. wood: he looked at me, we were riding in the truck sharing silence for some time. "Theresa," he said. At this point I open my heart, knowing he would say he loved me in those waiting words
ms. wood: {internal smile at the ways of this wisened twosome}
mrs. wood: "Theresa, " he said to me. "I really love this truck."
