Ambling Rambling

The day sparkled; it was as pristine a day as this achy old man could ask for. Air clear and crisp, saturated with the usual buzz and chirp, and over it all the gravel making a satisfying crunch under my walking shoes. Even Mannford enjoyed a calm and unharried amble; not once did my lumbering mastiff pull against his leash to urge me to move a bit faster or in a different direction.

Oddly enough Patsy popped into my head. What was she doing today? Was she doing it for herself? I hoped so. She certainly earned endless hours to spend on whatever her life's passion was. I should have known what that life passion was, as much time as the woman spent under our roof. How long ago had it been now since she'd shown up earlier than the dawn at our kitchen door, efficient and sufficient to fill any need. Eight years? Ten? Too cowardly to do the math, I pulled away from that thought and re-focused.

Dear Patsy fetched and cleaned for us back when we lived on the outskirts of Atlanta and stayed too busy or laden to venture to the inskirts. Patsy was like today. Always well put together, never out of sorts, always wearing the proper demeanor along with well-pressed clothes. It made me proud to have her representing us, though I doubt she informed the grocer that she was actually shopping for someone else. But if someone ever did ask, she was an asset to our cause.

But I divagate.

The way the day started bore no similarity whatsoever to the way it ended up.
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Go ahead! What happened?

Snipped courtesty of The Miriam-Webster Word of the Day for August 03, 2008 is: divagate • \DYE-vuh-gayt\ • verb : to wander or stray from a course or subject : diverge, digress