That Thing We Never Talked About
I never wanted a dinosaur fish skeleton in my front yard. I would have gone for a welcome mat – red and turquoise flowers. Maybe a garden gnome.
I begged you to put it somewhere else, anywhere else, but you were so proud of the monstrosity. When you weren’t listening, I thanked God you’d forgotten about the leg lamp.
Somewhere around our 30th anniversary, I realized I’d named the thing. Never told you, of course. I couldn’t admit too much.
I grab a rusted flipper. My finger joints feel a little rusty themselves.
“It’s just you and me now, Edgar. You and me.”
For reference: THE LEG LAMP (On pain of a lamp shattered over your head, DO NOT share this link with my beloved husband!)