Sprinkle Snow Valley, Calif.–5:59 p.m., Pamper-Her-Friday:

_________________________________________________

My Love,

Who cares if there’s a blizzard outside.

Well, I guess that’s a rather heartless statement, eh? Of course I care that we’re snowed in. But, I planned accordingly, Love.

I’ve always taken pleasure in the little things, as you know. Where others require the most modern accoutrements of cavernous living quarters, the trappings of recent technology and electronica, and the decadence of exquisite food and drink, I ask only the nearness of you.

I read this quote today: “One brownie makes you happy, a second brownie, maybe a little more. The third brownie doesn’t make us happy at all, and the fourth brownie makes us sick.”

Moderation. Too little of a good thing leaves us wanting. Too much of a good thing makes us . . . well, you get the gist.

But what of romance? Too little certainly leaves us craving. Too much? Well, I’m not sure there’s such a thing as too much romance. I mean, it’s one of the most scarce resources in the human world, no?

Think a moment, if you ask anyone on the street, randomly, “Did you get too much romance today?” I’m willing to wager you won’t get one taker. Not a one. (Lol!).

It’s what you make it, romance. My mother today showed me my father’s Canadian social insurance card (the U.S. equivalent of a SS card) and a quiet overtook the room. I was mesmerized by his signature; I swear, it looked hauntingly like my own. The “R” and the “G” I could have virtually lifted from his script, it was so nearly identical.

She’s kept it in immaculate condition, all these years. Preservation. A guardian of a love still evident, even after his passing four decades ago.
She handled it like a museum curator of a Picasso original.

I said, “You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?” She turned away but not before breaking a guilty smile and began walking away. I called out, laughingly, “Come here, woman! Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you . . . .”

My sisters and I giggled in chorus. It’s our “family truth.” A life-affirming common thread among us that keeps us anchored, keeps us secure in one another, keeps us firmly aware that how you treat another can have life-long impact. Especially when done right.

It’s the little things that truly matter.

We lost Mandela today. “Madiba no longer belongs to us, he belongs to the ages,” Obama said.

Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela was a romantic. He took nothing for granted: Life; Air; Freedom; Love; Democracy; Family; . . . Romance.

This quiet yet invincible dignity that lived in the man inspires me like nothing much else. Tonight especially.

Why? Because we’re snowed in. Like Mandela was “jailed in.” But just as Africa’s Father saw paradise beyond the iron bars, I see the waist-high snow as no less than a gift from the heavens.

Why?

We’re confined to one another . . . with a fire, a pot chockful of simmering tender veggie-with-fresh-poultry viddles, warm berry cobbler, and piping hot beverages of your choice: cream or cider. Oh, and how about some Nat King Cole and Kem on the Bose–for good measure?

The nearness of you is all I want on this oh-so-cold-outside but so-very-cozy-inside start to our weekend.

It’s Pamper-Her-Friday, Love.

Is there anything else I can get you while I’m at it?
Just Because,
Rg2

_____________________________________________________________________

***

For Mandela.
For Roy Greer Sr.
For Romance. -Rg2

© 2013 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®