This was originally posted in October 2015. As I work on downsizing to move from a large house into a condominium, the conundrum of which possessions to part with is sometimes easy, often hard. Mr. Underwood came home with me last year, and I am please to say that he has made the cut. Could you blame me for keeping him around?
I found myself sleepy to the point of no concentration. The words on the page kept running together, and the thought of another cup of coffee was appealing. I left the La Salle Hotel and walked down Main Street to the Harvest Coffee Bar.
The distillation contraption was intriguing, and I soon had a little cup of the cold brewed coffee and headed back towards my room. I wanted to get a another several hundred words down.
It was then that I saw him. He was standing at a shop window, then he turned and looked at me. He pulled off his sunglasses and smiled.
I smiled in return but continued walking.
He said, “Stop and talk with me awhile. I think we may have much to say to one another.”
I pulled up short, and looked at him again. His blue eyes were were sincere and compelling.
We stood talking in the street for a long time. His name was Underwood. While his face was lined and he was evidently older than I first thought, the more we talked and the more stories he shared, I found myself completely taken with him. I took his hand and he followed me back to the La Salle.
We woke the next morning with the sun glowing around the edges of the blinds.
After pulling on my clothes and getting my bag together, I turned to him. “I’m really not ready to stop here . . . would you consider coming to Houston, and spending some time with me?”
His smile lines deepened, and those blue eyes gave me a wonderful look.
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Ann Cavitt Fisher 