Shorties at the Bar
With two empty seats between us, I sat on a stool at one end of the bar dividing the kitchen and dining room, and my dad sat on the other end, his feet barely touching the ground. Figuratively speaking, he had “the floor.” My mom stood spaced between the two of us on the kitchen side of the rectangular bar table. She stood close to two hours with her elbows on the granite surface, leaning into the bar (which happened to be the perfect height for her elbows) as she was tilted into the direction of dad as he spoke. (Side note: She’s turning 90 in two months.) She’s a lefty, and so she mostly rested her face in her prominent hand, although she did switch it up from time to time. She reminded me of a school girl staring at her high school crush, maybe on a first date. I was as entertained by her than I was by him.
Mom never lifted her gaze from my dad; It was a most-pure demonstration of classic body language—someone intently listening, someone captivated. Someone crushing. She smiled, she laughed, she commented with a few, “those were the days” and “boy, that was something,” comments, revealing their shared history. With classic story-telling finesse, dad recited tales of his days as a corporal in Korea to building houses and churches on his missionary work in Mexico to designing and physically building massive wine tanks for Delicato Winery in California. Many of the stories I’d heard before, but to my surprise, there were a couple I hadn’t heard. The detail alone—in my estimation—qualifies him as a brilliant man.
***
The other night John and I were at a restaurant, seated at an outdoor table. It was a warm spring evening, and I noticed a young couple a few yards off in a wide open grassy space. The woman’s date (I’m assuming) was taking photos of her being playful, hamming it up. She was striking different dramatic poses, mugging for the camera, just being playful and in the moment. They were having fun together and John noticed my smile—watching their fun. He said he loves watching me people-watch. He can always tell when I’m studying someone. I reminded him this is my work.
I said that I can often tell the general nature of a relationship when I people-watch. Or, at least, I think I can. Like in a restaurant, it’s easy to tell when someone’s on a first date, for example. If things are new. I think I can tell if someone’s been married a long time, too. Often, this is a stark contrast. And not in a good way.
As I watched my parents tonight, I was witness to a small miracle at the bar. I saw a couple married a long time; I saw a couple on a first date.