Grace was in the kitchen. Her chubby brown face was angel-like in a smiling concentration as she cooked a West Coast bouillabaisse that simmered with clams, mussels, halibut, salmon, and crab. She wore ear buds and swayed gently to an old Bruce Coburn tune, “Wondering Where the Lions Are.”
Grace could not be happier. She had her boys back again. They looked good as they concentrated in their prospective areas, all in one room where she could see them. They looked like the young men she had comforted back in the seventies, with the same energy. Sure they had gray hair, and age spots on their hands, and some had little bellies that hung over their fatigues, but they were vibrant, full, their eyes were clear. She had never been as attracted to them as she was now. She would probably sleep with one of them tonight.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish