This morning Jean came to me with a flyer from Subway & said:
Here are some coupons for free sandwiches.
And I, thinking of her Parkinson’s & remnants of carpal tunnel & her difficulty at times in grasping things with her fingers, replied:
We don’t always do well with sandwiches.
The instant I see her reaction, I realize that I sound condescending, not to mention I have used the royal plural.
Jean (who knows I sound condescending & have used the royal plural because she does not miss a trick) says:
Really? Do you have trouble with sandwiches?
Only a bit more than 19 years separate us, as I am fond of pointing out when Jean reminds me to take an umbrella, or that I might think about taking a jacket or asks why I am wearing a slip with a denim dress in this heat & humidity.
I murmur something innocuous & know that instead of spinach fettuccine with artichoke & mushroom cream sauce tonight, we will have Subway.
So I touch Jean’s soft cheek & say with a smile:
We will have a free sandwich.
Artichokes & mushrooms can wait.
We had Subway for lunch.
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