Lately, I have been wanting some broad shoulders to lean against. Someone bigger and wider than me. Someone who would not take offense at my runny nose and incoherent babble and who would maybe even gently stroke my hair and assure me that everything-will-be-all-right.
Matt’s shoulders are really nice but he is an inch shorter than I am and – worst of all – I don’t buy his lines…we are stuck in the same bubbling cauldron, so who is he to fool?
I used to know a really good guy who lived across the alley and would check in on me and my broken heaters, collapsed chimneys, absurd ATT bills, and crashed utility posts last summer. He died in August, before I even got here. I am still mad about that one.
And then there are a couple of potential candidates I really pissed off, so probably no shoulders to cry on there, even if they were available.
Anyway, one of the most beautiful set of shoulders that would actually be lent to me free of charge are attached to my dear friend who is geographically incapacitated to act on his generosity. Damn. I so deserve a pair of solid shoulders these days.
Thinking about it in some wistful sort of state, I realize, however, that my wonderful friend and soul mate back where home used to be is thirty-three times more deserving than I. And it doesn’t look like she will be getting a chance to drool blissfully any time soon, either.
So, I guess we’ll have to wait for the holidays to roll around. We might get lucky yet. If only Santa wasn’t such a freak. Yikes!
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