ALWAYS HOLD MY HAND

 

By Buffy Lawson
I am fascinated by human nature. As a songwriter, observation is not only the most important part of my job, but I am genuinely intrigued by people. I am interested in the minds of homeless folks, rich folks, weird folks, city slickers and the salt of the earth. Despite the disposition of an individual, I have found that love is everywhere.
One delightful afternoon I took a lovely stroll in the city park. That particular day I felt cute as a button sporting fabulous matching shoes, a coordinating shirt, and a brand new set of high dollar ear buds Mister Man had bought me for my birthday. I jogged through a fabulous garden path in an area well known for runners. Suddenly, I spotted a large box. 
Sitting in the box was a worn and tattered man and woman I supposed to be in their fifties. I tried my best to look away but my heart was strangely fixated on them. These homeless lovelies must have known this because the lady looked directly into my eye and said…“Uh, would you like to come sit with us honey?” GULP. Their large box home had two mason jars on either side of the entrance with yellow flowering garden weeds prominently displayed. There was one red candle lit on an oversized coffee can, which served as a coffee table. The two toothless lovers sat side by side on small pillows that matched the flowering weeds in the front.
I started to thank her for the invitation and mosey on my way, but something in her eyes told me I should stay. What should have been an awkward moment between a homeless woman and myself was actually one of the most comfortable I could have imagined. We began chatting like long lost friends… it was incredible how much we had in common. “He hates he lost his hair.” I almost spit my water forward in laughter. In thinking about how much he must have lost in his life, it was something to imagine he cared more about losing his hair! She then reported, “And I will never fit back into those old sexy britches.”
She asked about my life and I suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Compared to her world, I had everything. A beautiful home, wonderful dinners at incredible restaurants, vacations and expensive ear buds for running. But I told her about Mister Man and how much I loved him. However, I could tell she sensed my apprehension; that was likely sad for her.
I gave my new friend a long hug and started to leave as it was time. “Hey, don’t ‘cha worry ‘bout me honey,” she said with the most honest eyes I had ever seen. “I am happy. Finally found a man who is nice to me. We go on a date night ever’ Tuesday up there under that weeping willow tree. He picks me flowers ever’ afternoon and holds my hand when we sleep. We love to count the stars and he don’t care if I will ever fit back into those old sexy britches. An’ I don’t care that he ain’t got no hair!”
She asked me if I was happy. Before that afternoon, I thought I had everything. 
On my way home, I called Mister Man, sobbing hysterically. “HONEY! WELL…UH…OKAY…HERE IT GOES, I MIGHT NEVER FIT INTO THOSE SEXY OLD BRITCHES AND I DON’T CARE THAT YOU HAVE NO HAIR, BUT I WANT YOU TO TAKE ME ON A DATE NIGHT, PICK ME SOME YELLOW WEEDS AND HOLD MY HAND UNDER THAT WEEPING WILLOW TREE!”
GULP.


Posted on 2014-09-04 by
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