MUSINGS
"Now, that was interesting," Jonathan said aloud, after the boys were gone the next morning. "I expected more of a battle than that. Jeremy barely reacted at all, and here I was prepared to be the cruel father. Perhaps I should not have spoke with Jason?"
He finished tidying up the place, and poured himself a cup of was probably another cup left in the pot, and he replaced it on the stove to stay warm before seating himself in his 'setting chair'.
"Well, it could have been true, I suppose, that Joshua heard it first, but I'd still not have expected Jeremy to settle without a single 'No', m'love. Tis not his way, nor mine."
He went about his day, his long, empty day with his boys gone, until the night drew in, the supper was done, and it was time for getting into the cold, empty bed.
He chose to sit up and read for a bit before facing that.
He lifted his head as the room filled with the spicy floral scent that his late wife had favored. Soon, he could picture her. He remembered how it had felt to sit with her in his lap, leaning her head into his shoulder, and he closed his eyes and sighed.
The feel of her was so strong, and he was not even feeling tired or weak at this time, which was usually when he slipped into delusions of her. But then, these things were happening more frequently.
It was a comfort to talk things over with her, real, imagined, or somewhat in between.
She was indignant about being considered a delusion. She was no delusion!
"Well, then, you are a ghost, and I've no belief in such," he murmured, remembering the feel of her fine hair in his hands as they would sit like this many a night, their boys breathing quietly around them.
She sat up in his arms, pushing herself away from him. "A ghost! Why, Jonny Bolt, how can you say such a thing? You know as well as I that since afore we laid eyes, I was part you and you part me. How can I be a ghost when the part of me that is you still lives?! Such foolishness!"
Well now, that was something new, the rational part of his mind noted. Twas true that they at times quarreled fiercely, but never over their shared existence.
His irrational mind threw back its head and laughed joyfully, pulling the beloved wife close and kissing her as fiercely as any argument they'd ever had.
"Well, then, love, while we've each a part in both words, let us plan to make this a grand Christmas for our boys, as it will most likely be the last with us here with them."
"Jon, you dinna believe in a grand Christmas. Never have."
"I dinna believe in ghosts, nor half-lives, yet here we are."
He laughed.
She laughed.
In the morning, he went out looking for the bits of greenery that she had always used to fill their home with for the Christmas season. It would be his first, and most likely last, time decorating. Something for the boys to remember with pleasure.