by R. Renee Bembry

Created on: October 24, 2007   Last Updated: October 23, 2010

I realized she was my soul mate, but I could not run my fingers through her long, silvery hair.

Silvery grey was my own hair. The years had passed so slowly yet, somehow quickly. All at once it seemed the wrinkles had appeared on my newly freckled forehead the very afternoon I discovered her.

Strange how you can know a person for years and not know them for the same years. That's the way it was with Mrs. Silvery Hair. I cannot disclose her name, for like me, she has a life to complete...an adorable family to complete it with. And thus, it is her locks, wind swaying, glittering with sunlight that I must refer to. Never before had I known grayness could be so alluring.

It was her eyes and her smile that caught me as she tickled her grandchild's toes at the annual neighborhood barbecue. Grandparent myself, I understood the smile embracing the two year old lying on the blanket beside her. It was when she looked up and transferred her smile to me, that I became lost taken aback disheveled.

High school kiddish I felt as our pupils embraced. Deliberation played no role. My eyes simply would not or could not let hers go. Nor would her eyes release mine. My brain my conscious warned me trouble lay in wait if I didn't turn my head soon but it wasn't until Wifey offered me a tumbler of punch that I became capable of prying my blue marbles away.

Wifey was saying something about the new in-ground pool the neighbors had recently installed. I think she was suggesting we install one in our backyard. But I couldn't be sure. Odd... I usually doted on every word that came from Better Half's mouth.

Or, at least I thought I doted. Now I'm wondering if maybe I wasn't really doting after all. If maybe I'd taught myself to pay attention. To hear every word...for the sake of matrimony, because as Wifey spoke to me, I couldn't help thinking about how I played Little Piggy with my grandchild's toes and tickled them, beaming all the while, just like Mrs. Silvery Hair did with her grandchild.

Glancing over Wifey's shoulders to rest my eyes on youthful grandmother's silvery locks once more; I noticed her dazzling grays were still encapsulating me even as she tipped her tumbler of punch. Even as her long smooth neck quite smooth for a grandmother swallowed the cool sweet liquid.

And then...it dawned on me...Mrs. Silvery Hair spent more time drinking punch than she spent eating at these outings. So did I which was why Wifey, who knew me well, had brought me a refill.

But that wasn't all;

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