The Oven

"Nice." she spoke as she looked at the picture and took a bite of her rye toast.

"She is a nice girl. If you can find a way to be happy with yourself, then you can be happy with anybody."

"Do you really believe that?" His eyes looked deep into hers. He only heard the part of her statement that he wanted to.

She sighed. He thought he was happy, because the simplicity of success and ease of life had never allowed his depth to develop. This was no one's fault but her own. She had provided him with a structured and safe childhood, and chosen a mate that made him physically strong, tall, and powerful. His biggest issue had been whether he took first or second place.

But eventually, life would change that too. Life had a way of taking what you thought you really wanted and giving you exactly what you needed to really grow up. She knew her boy had a thunderstorm in store for him.

"I really love her, and i think I am going to marry this girl, mom." He held the picture in his big hands, and projected his desire upon his idea of her.

All of that could happen with just a picture. The journey a mind can go on while swirling ideas around with glimpses of possible futures.

She put another piece of toast in the old oven. She left the heavy metal door slightly open to keep the kitchen warm. The heat never quite got warm enough in the old house.


It was his first relationship.