(Scenes from a not so reminiscent love story XVI)
“I treasure those immediate gestures of yours,” he said.
She heaved a sigh of relief.
“And I’d feared that those very immediate gestures
were the reason you’ve been silent all week.”
“Why, I love the immediacy of them! I wouldn’t
treasure anything else nearly that much.
Not nearly that immediately or moderately
or even vaguely.”
By that time she had forgotten who he was
and could not for the world remember
what gestures these might have been, and why
anyone would have called them immediate.
Happily, she began to look forward to another
day of grazing. In fact, to many other days of grazing,
to many months, or even years of grazing
on luscious alpine meadows like this one.
Or like another one.
The alfalfa of the future was shining brightly.
– Leonard “Silliness Alive & Well” Blumfeld (© 2010)
Written around gesture, immediate, treasure from 3WW.
Semi-Borgesian notes on this one
Borges was always good for a library-steeped, erudite explanation to make something purely imaginary entirely real. To confound my readers, I volunteer the following background information: Daisy was a black-and-white stuffed cow I brought back from a trip to the U.S. for my daughter when she was about 5 years old and going through a stuffed cow phase. Kuno was another black-and-white stuffed cow that my mother-in-law brought from the U.S. for my daughter, who was still going through the same phase, even though by then it was waning. I would tell my daughter bedtime stories about two cows called Daisy and Kuno. Kuno was madly in love with Daisy but occasionally unbearably overbearing. Daisy was capricious and could not make up her mind about whether she loved Kuno, detested him or was merely oblivious to him.