Saturday, February 16, 2008

The Universe Reiterates Its Point

The man who resented magnolias stopped raking and looked at the tree as if he had just woken up, then looked at me, laughed and said, “My wife was the one who had to have this house.” He is no longer part of the household. I don’t think his wife’s lack of awareness for her ex-husband’s aversion to magnolias contributed to the divorce, but it might represent a general trend.

After I had written my post yesterday, a friend and I exchanged emails about an acquaintance we have in common who just announced her engagement. We, the dowagers, do not know the fiancé well. We do know his feelings seem more important in the relationship than hers, here in the courtship phase, when he is supposedly on his best behavior. (Just ask Mrs. Camellia why she figures that, Honey, she will count the ways.) The acquaintance is smart and beautiful. She thinks she loves him. Maybe she thinks love means patiently waiting for him to take her into consideration. We know the bride-to-be's family, and it would appear this young woman is tumbling along the lines of family fractals. While we hope the stars in Cinderella’s eyes aren’t blinding her, my friend wrote me, “I guess we do what we have learned at home. At least there won't be surprises. For the observers, anyway.”

Yesterday I came home from having my hair cut with a new bit of gossip. “Did you hear Skeet and Lola are getting a divorce?” I asked my husband. They both work in my husband’s place of business, and maybe ten years ago Skeet left his wife and children to take up with Lola. “Oh, yeah,” my husband said, “Skeet’s walking around like he doesn’t know what hit him.” “He wasn’t expecting this divorce? What happened,” I asked. “The women at work, they all take Lola’s side. They said he was gone too much, and Lola got tired of him hunting while she sat around waiting for him to come in out of the woods.” Where we live, hunters start hunting as kids and never quit. Nobody could marry a man who hunts and have any doubts where he would be during hunting season. My husband, who doesn’t even read my blogs, added, “Tell me she didn’t see that magnolia before she moved him in.”

So many of us can’t see the trees because of the enchanted forest, but that tree we’re pretending isn’t really there or it doesn’t bother us so much? --it’s a magnolia. If we can't stand magnolias, the stardust will always turn to grit. And we're going to think it's somebody else's fault.

4 comments:

Nicole said...

Wah. I'm surrounded by enchanged magnolias turning to grit.

BUT, I love how you tell the tales of the wobegone who cannot see them. I wonder how many times you've thought the same of me as I have ranted and raved about the magnolias for ten years plus. *sigh*

I hope your young bride-to-be friend reads your blog. If not, you could get her a lovely rake as a shower gift. teehee...ok, maybe I have to laugh so that I don't cry. Please forgive! =)

Keetha said...

Ha ha ha! That made me laugh out loud. It's so true! Another great post.

Silver Solo said...

Here's what I gleaned from this post. Your husband doesn't read your blog. Let's say your husband's name is John. John, this is to you. If you do not read your wife's blog, you are totally missing what the universe has to say to you. That's your choice, but an ill-fated one, I fear. You may well enjoy your life on the surface which she joyfully provides but beneath the surface is a most amazing woman that many prize for the depth of her being. John, don't be a pauper in a land of plenty. Dig a little deeper for the treasure she truly is. Why settle for a meatloaf sandwtch when a filet mignon awaits? Grow a soul and discover your soulmate.

Camellia said...

Silver Solo: Thanks for your concern. "John" speaks my language. He makes me laugh. He understands what makes me laugh. He has given me much comfort and space while I research and search the Universe. The blog is a room of my own, where I can mostly speak my mind and explore what I think, without thinking about its effect on someone else...I think with him as an audience, I would not be so freefalling. I appreciate the freedom of my privacy. And I appreciate him for being exactly who he is, and you, for caring. Thanks, again.