a silent historian: rainy sunday noon

Yesterday was Mr. Hendroshibell's 85th birthday and we had him and his daughter {Miss Permillia} over for supper. He is a wonder with woodworking and gardening and hunts with a crossbow. Not two weeks ago he killed a buck. Mr. Henderson's land is a magical sort of place - more like a paradise than a yard. He has trails and creeks and all sorts of fruits and vines and trees growing on his land. If you've ever been there, you know what kind of enchantment comes over you when you're there. And if you've never been, I can only hope that one day you will.
Last night Mr. Bibb was sitting at one end of the table and Abraham was to his left. We talked about nematodes, airports, gardens and farmers and what people did that day and how far Chris had gotten on his bookshelf he's making. At one point Mr. Henderson said,
'You know, Abraham, I'm as curious as I can be about something.'
'Yessir? Well go ahead.'
'I noticed,' said Mr. Henderson, 'that when you take a bite of food you kinda have to do this,' and he made a smoothing motion with his index and thumb, starting at the middle of the mustache area and moving to the tips of his mouth.
'Yessir,'
'Well, what I wonder is, what do you do when you kiss a girl?'
At that the table kinda shook and there were hoots and back-slappings and table - thumpings. Abe said simply
'You know, I haven't run into that problem yet, Mr. Henderson, but whoever she is, I reckon she better not be ticklish.'

And now Abe's gone. But we had him since Christmas, so I really can't complain. Still, it's sad.
That means only a 10-pot in the morning instead of a 12-pot and probably, there will be coffee leftover anyways - means no more bushy beards poking through my door early in the morning and wide eyes and him saying 'Let's hear the pitter patter of Brille's feet...', and no being able to walk into the boy's room at any time of the day and see the little reading nook's light on and a bent head and stack of books and a pair of boots...no 5 mile walks and talking about the strange and perplexing, the idealistic vs. reality, good habits, bad habits, and any other thing that might come up. means one towel, and washcloth in the bathroom instead of two, and no shaving kit that he'd leave on the counter every day, and which, every day i'd put back under the counter . No punching bag, or teasing or belly laughing so hard it hurts.
No more, that is, until he comes back. Entonces, hasta luego, adios brum!!! We waved and at the turn in the road he slowed down so much, we knew he was taking a good look. And it's good he did, 'cause we were waving something fierce.