This is for my dear slipperieslope ... just to say thank you!
Title: CHANGES - Part 5: Joy
We began at my place today. First we removed the old bushes in the front yard – there we’ll built a car-port. Casey insisted on it “this would be the perfect place for your car, Zeke…”
“And for your bike,” I added. This made him chuckle.
“I won’t always ride by bike, Zeke…” He couldn’t stop giggling. “Imagining me as the world’s top photograph running to the most wonderful sets by bike. This would give me a fine nickname “Casey-the Bike-Connor . I guess I’d be always much too late…”
This made us laugh.
“So a double-sized car-port then…”
“For a second car?”
“No, for a tandem…” I was laughing so hard until my face hurt.
Aaron offered us his tools and his helping hand. I’m sure it will become fantastic, because he’s a former structural designer it should be perfect.
But we’ll have a little break outside because it’s raining cats and dogs right now.
There’s so much work to do inside, the walls need a new paint – Casey asked for light blue for the living room and orange for the kitchen. I’ve chosen pastel green for the bedroom.
Oh, he found out that the day after tomorrow is Aaron’s 90th birthday.
As a gift Casey took some photos secretly while we were working and the album is almost done. Looks great, he’s a wonderful photograph. There are lots of pictures of the garden, of Aaron himself, even some shots of me and I took some of him.
We need a cake! What if he’s diabetic? Something low-fat, fruity then. I remember an old baking book on the bookshelf in the kitchen. I have to take a look. Now. Can’t sleep anyway. Walking in socks and shorts into the kitchen I’m humming, almost singing. Wow. It’s only 1 a.m. and I’m not grumpy. The song is ridiculous …
Ah, there it is. It’s a book published in 1911, wow… It must be my grandma’s … Yes, I know the handwriting … and there are dried roses in it. Many little slips with tips and tricks, only words, few poems. Written by longhand, smoothly carved letters, written in a flow with ink … the color of the ink is already fading…
One of them touched me …
So through the eyes love attains the heart:
For the eyes are the souls of the heart,
And the eyes go reconnoitring
for what if would please the heart to possess.
And when they are full accord and firm, all three,
In one resolve, at that time perfect love is born
From what the yes have made welcome to the heart.
Not otherwise can love either be born or have commencement.
Than by this birth and commencement moved by inclination.
By the grace and by command of these three,
And from their pleasure, love is born, who its fair hope
Goes comforting her friends.
For as all true lovers know,
Love is perfect kindness,
Which is born – there is no doubt –
From the heart and eyes.
The eyes make it blossom,
The heart matures it:
Love, which is the fruit of their very seed.
(Guiraut de Borneilh, 1138 – 1200)
I let my fingers trail across the paper, touching the letters gently. I wish you’d still be there Grandma. This is so you, I can feel it even I didn’t know you for long.
“Love is perfect kindness…” these words are echoing still in my head…
They make me melancholic, a little bit sad, too.
But now I have to go on with the book. The pictures are mostly painted, few black/white photographs… And the names of the cakes sound very seductive…
Grandmother’s apple pie cake, Wild Canary Cake, Crunchy chocolate cookies, chocolate-Cherry-Bomb, Strawberry kisses…
God, I’m so hungry now. Hard choice … chocolate-cherry-bomb or strawberry kisses.
I never made a cake or something like that. God, what would I give for some cinnamon-sugar-donuts … now… Yes, that would be it!
The phone rings? At 1 a.m.? What the heck…
“Casey… Casey? What’s wrong? Are you ok? Were are you?”
He giggles … “I’m ok, Zeke. I just thought about Aaron’s birthday. We need a cake!!!”
This makes me laugh…
“Zeke? Why are you up at this time…”
“Because you called me?”
“Oh, I’m sorry…”
“No. I was just looking for a recipe for his birthday cake…”
He smiles, I can hear it.
“2 idiots – 1 thought late at night…”
This makes me laugh… “Chocolate-cherry-bomb or strawberry kisses?”
He snickers … “What?”
“Chocolate-cherry-bomb or strawberry kisses?”
“Do you wanna throw these at me?”
This makes me laugh, though … no, this makes me laugh even more…
“No, Casey. Cakes. These are cakes. Which one would you take?”
“Hmmm… if they would be for you I’d take the strawberries … the kisses, too…”
“good, Strawb… What did you say?”
What WAS that? Did he say he’d take kisses, too ? From me? Was he flirting with me? On the phone? No, can’t be… Kisses… Kisses from Casey…
I’ve to get these “kisses” and the voice out of my head or I’ll be bursting.
No sleep. Only kisses… in my head, on my pillow… Casey’s kisses.
Sleep, Zeke. Just sleep!
Yes. I think he likes me. ME! Casey likes ZEKE!
I really should sleep now.
Love is perfect kindness… Thanks Grandma for these words.
Thanks for this great Sunday, f-list.
Have a nice week!
Love and hugs,