You tell the best stories…
Thank-you for the compliment.
I wish I had the same comfort telling them orally as writing them. The other day, I came home with such a story I was literally exploding with anticipation I wanted to share it with my husband so badly. I began with a bit of background, just to set the stage, and proceeded to unfold it, paying extra attention that I didn’t omit any crucial parts, nor include anything extraneous which would dilute the impact. As I spoke, my enthusiasm grew. I needed to keep this in check too, since I didn’t want to burn-out prematurely and spoil the presentation. As I approached the story’s climax, I glanced his way, one, to check that he was OK and didn’t require medical attention from too much excitement, and two, to see his reaction.
He had just began to yawn. Not one of those stifled little yawns that can be disguised by pretending to run your tongue over your teeth while pursing your lips. Not the little stronger yawn he tries to hide by pretending to scratch his nose, and thus hide his mouth behind his hand either. He was embarking on a journey into the land of a full fledged yawn: The kind of yawn indicating that he’s been spending far too much time with our cat, who, when it comes to yawning, he seems to have learned to mimic. He covered his mouth using both hands. Even then, I could see lips and gums around the edges of his fingers. He threw his head back. Shut eyes began to water. That AAAaaahhhh sound. I knew the yawn was nearing completion when his head began to quiver. He would spend a few more seconds in his other world. Meanwhile, I became angry.
I experienced a number of emotions during his interlude: Hurt, anger, disappointment, as well as feeling foolish and agitated. While waiting for him to finish, my emotions built enormous pressure, but I managed to contain myself until he was finished, and in addition, held them in check through the brief period he needed to catch his breath: One doesn’t yawn like this without needing time to recover. Then I let him have it! Both barrels. I needed to get this off my chest. Before I could finish, he exploded!
When I began, I could see him trying, with profound desperation, to keep from smiling. He looked serious enough for a few seconds, but the corners of his mouth were creeping upward on him. His lips were turning white from being pursed so tightly. He glanced at the floor to avoid eye contact. But it was too much for him. Instantly, he was holding his belly with one hand and slapping his thigh with the other. He was laughing so hard he couldn’t catch his breath. He was rocking back and forth in his chair and stomping his feet. Eventually, he ran out of wind totally and continued laughing silently, since no wind equals no sound. He rolled from side to side. Then, to gain more room to manoeuvre, he stood up, waving his arms, bending at the waist, and wiping his eyes with tissue. Meanwhile, I was desperately working at covering any and all indications that I shared the least bit of his amusement. My face was frozen, for fear of joining his hilarity and thus destroying any credibility of my claim of being emotionally devastated by his yawn. Having devoted all his energy to his laugh, he collapsed into his chair. As his outburst began losing strength, he began pointing at me. Each point seemed to restore his laughter’s vigour. His pointing also broke my bubble of indignation and, in this weakened condition, I began to laugh too. Soon we were both feeding each other’s laughter. Joining his laughter removed much of the stimulation for him to continue. We soon simmered down to chuckling, and in a few moments, that ended too.
His morning routine was totally interrupted. This, combined with a small dose of guilt motivated him to offer to make coffee. Although only a small token, being served a coffee and cookies looked like the only compensation I will ever enjoy for my morning’s troubles, so I accepted. As the kettle began boiling, he asked “Did you ever finish telling me your story?”
Cheers, PW. |
