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Why Am I Here?
Either my wife’s being existential or a Great Dane.
“It takes half your life before you discover life is a do-it-yourself project.” Napoleon Hill
Spring has sprung in the Lake Erie heartland, a sure sign Winona’s ready to examine her life in detail. My wife does this most days, but spring and sunshine tend to hasten her resolve, even if she does kick it to the curb.
I don’t mean she’s off the rails. Indeed, some days it’s heartening to see the attention she gives simple things. Like when she came to me claiming her Invisalign trays can be cleaned with simple soap and water.
“See?” she says, showing me her teeth encased in plastic. “Sparkling and fresh. I use my tooth brush to clean them. It’s sparkling and fresh, too.”
God may have twenty shades of green. Winona’s got fifty-two.
It’s like when she’s choosing a paint colour. She won’t be happy until every paint chip is examined and categorized by tint and texture.
God may have twenty shades of green. Winona’s got fifty-two.
My wife lives in a specialized world, characterized — as specialized worlds usually are — by conquering subjects with every available brain cell. She’s a thinker, in other words, a true rural…
