Wishing I could marry him all over again
My husband and I were coming home from a pleasant dinner the other evening when I suddenly remembered we were out of milk and asked him to stop at a nearby market. It had been a simple meal at a modest restaurant, but mostly we had just enjoyed the pleasure of each other's company. We always intersperse bites of food with bits of conversation on matters of art, economics, conservation, nuclear power -- you name it. Usually we are on opposite sides of any issue, and the discussions are quite lively -- heated at times. Bob seems to see things from a perspective entirely different from mine. I have to admit that he does have some good points to make, however, and every now and then I even modify my opinions a bit as a result of hearing his. I've known him to do the same for me.
As Bob drove in to park at the market, I glanced up at the wall of the building next to it and saw a row of dark green cypress trees under the artificial light. The market's illuminated sign was shining on them and casting orange shadows against the yellow wall. It made such a colorful and unusual sight in the evening light that I said, ``Isn't that pretty, the way those tree shadows are so orange against that yellow wall?''
Bob looked up and said, ``They sure look green to me.''
``Green?'' I said with shock. ``Are you colorblind or just crazy?'' Then I stopped abruptly, because suddenly into my perception leaped another set of shadows from the other side of each cypress. These shadows were being produced by the overhead floodlights and were a bright yellow-green -- a kind of chartreuse halfway between the yellow of the wall and the green of the trees. It was beautiful.
``Oh!'' I laughed. ``I meant the shadows on the other side. I didn't even notice the green ones.''
I felt chastened as I realized that the other shadows had been there all along. I never would have even seen them if Bob hadn't mentioned them. Then I glanced over at Bob to see his look of sudden awareness as he perceived the orange shadows. Reaching over and squeezing his arm, I had to smile, wishing I could marry him all over again.