My friend Levi and I were picking up our daughters, Jennifer and Abigail, from their Wednesday night dance lessons this week, and were waiting for them out by our cars, chatting pleasantly,
when a couple of adorable girls walked out of the coffee shop next door and headed for their own vehicles.
Levi had just recently moved to Stonewall from Canada with his family, and he was still getting used to the many advantages (and responsibilities) he now enjoyed as an eligible man here; and he gave me a subtle elbow and a discreet nod.
‘Sheesh—check out that little pair over there,’ he said with a gentlemanly chuckle. ‘How nice
are those legs on the blonde, eh?’
I couldn’t help but laugh at the habitual hint of unrequitable longing in his tone, and I realized he’d still not yet fully grasped what it meant to be an eligible man; and his eyebrows rose in
surprise as I addressed the young girls.
‘Hey cuties,’ I called out, causing their heads to raise in unison from their conversation like two startled young does. ‘Come over here, please.’