___________(3)____________
JOY
What was she ...eighteen? I assumed so, or very close at least. Looking at her now I could instantly recognize all of the distinct features which I had become so accustomed to within the last few years of my own life, yes they were there alright. The high cheekbones and heart shaped face were as prevalent in her as they were my wife, now sleeping beside me. The girl in the seventy seven year old painting had probably measured no more than five feet in height, weighing-in at around a hundred and five pounds I guessed. Her large brown eyes beheld an ostensibly animalistic instinct to them; the eyes were stoic and penetrating like a wolf's eyes. ...They were eyes that could look right through a man and know that of which he was made from yet captivate him within the same instant. They were eyes filled with courage and family honor, eyes that did not waver when confronted with a wrong. The girl in the painting had mesmerizing, deep and mysterious eyes which seemingly could look right through into another's soul.
They were proud eyes that held strong medicine.
...The forgotten artist, long since dead himself, must have felt a chill run through himself as he had looked into those large dark eyes and proceeded to capture the girl's likeness onto the canvas that sunny day so many moons ago. His oil soaked brushes had been true to their master in capturing all of the fine and delicate features of a woman during the fleeting moment of youth. Her handmade beads and long elegant black hair somehow appeared to flow in a way that conveyed an aloof and silent strength about her which the large brown eyes seemed only to confirm. ...Yet, somehow there was something more within the eyes as well, something deeper, something much deeper than the generations of family pride and legacy that were so evident, there within. Looking at the painting now and studying the eyes closer, I began to see an all encompassing warmth and gentleness within the eyes as well. This warmth and gentleness deep within the eyes of the girl was well hidden though, as if a closely guarded secret.
...Joy Kitfox had been an extremely beautiful woman.
She had known that there were evil chiefs reining in faraway lands wanting to enslave the world, and she had seen the recent congregations of large masses of men and their fire breathing machines which were now filling the land and skies with their wrathful growls. She had seen these men, all dressed alike; erect the large towers for the singing wires and she had also heard tales of great iron beasts which now plied the once tranquil waters of far away, - these large grey monsters now reaching every corner of the earth. The girl understood none of the reasoning or logic behind these strange things and odd activities but she understood their urgency, she understood the calling to arms of men and this was reflected in her eyes which the artist had so brilliantly captured upon his canvas those many, many years ago during that quiet day within the forest.
Andrea stirred beside me as I continued to stare upward at the large portrait of her mother with the morning sunlight now spilling into the room and illuminating the painting. ...There was a deep sadness within the eyes of the girl in the painting but I also saw a strength and determination which I often saw reflecting back at me in Andrea. The girl within the portrait had been immensely strong and taught to survive -- the girl in the painting would always survive. Judging from her image, one would assume that the girl had been solemn and never smiling yet this had not been the case at all, Andrea had often informed me. The young girl had been a lover of life, cherishing those around her, often with a song in her heart and words of good cheer for all. ...Captivated by men from an early age, the girl in the painting knew that she loved the look and feel of a sensual man beside her deep within a cold night. In essence, the girl in this painting which I was now looking at had been erotic, wild and untamed ...the girl in the painting had been larger than life itself.
Lake Millhouse had understood this.
...I sat up in bed and swung my feet over onto the floor and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. ...Damn, I'll be fifty seven in a few months, I thought. How the hell did that happen? I'd been in my thirties, just last week, it now seemed. ...Lately I just felt like everything and everyone that I had ever held dear to me were gone now. Granted, I still had my beloved bride, Ricky and Brenda were still with us and all of us had been Blessed with good health yet it almost felt as if we were somehow standing alone now, as if we were the last one's left at a party after everyone else had gone home. Where was everyone? ...Kids in their twenties and thirties were now calling me sir and I was technically a Senior Citizen...
Andrea wanted me to take an early retirement, asking me the question "Do you really think sitting in a truck that's pumping diesel smoke for twelve hours a day is conducive to good health, Tim?" ...I really wasn't sure anymore and I wasn't trying to dwell in morbid reflection right now either, I was just asking myself some serious questions that needed answers. All of us are forced to face ourselves at one point in time or another in this life it seemed. Presently I remembered how gracefully my mother had aged -- never growing old. I would surmise that the young girl now looking down at me from the painting hadn't either.
..."Rest now, dear lady" I whispered, looking up at the girl in the painting once more.
Thinking of my own mother now and smiling slightly, I remembered her once asking me with a harsh voice "Well are ya gonna sit there and bitch about it or do something to make it better?" ...I stood now, saying the Serenity prayer and giving a few words of thanks, asking the Trinity for guidance and protection this day. I then smiled again, remembering my mother's devotion and diligence in raising two rambunctious teenage boys constantly attired in clothes stained with motor oil. Mom, a Spirit filled woman, had often quoted scripture to Ricky and me which had, on more than one occasion, ended with "DID YOU HEAR WHAT THE FUCK I JUST SAID TO YOU!!!???" ...Smiling again at the thought of her, I looked outside the window now, the sun was up and life was happening out in the world, it was time to get out there and make good things happen. It was time to spend the rest of my life with my beautiful bride.
"C'mon WIFI, time to get up now!" I said rather loudly and patting Andrea's bottom firmly, as I sat down again on the edge of the bed.
"Nuh!" Andrea mumbled defiantly, turning away from me.
Leaving her as she lay, I walked into the kitchen and began brewing a cup of her favorite coffee, if anything would rouse Andrea out of bed, it was the aroma of her favorite cup of brew. I then proceeded into the shower and began scrubbing myself clean and relishing in the hot water for a few extra minutes before stepping out and drying myself. Refreshed and awake now, I selected clean clothes and brewed a cup of coffee for myself. ...Seated now with my coffee, I began scanning classic vehicle ads on the internet. I wasn't buying anything but it was always fun to see what was up for sale as I sipped a good cup of light roast.
"Morning" Andrea suddenly said sleepily from beside me, she then bent down and kissed me. Upon standing up straight again, she finished tying her white nightgown and headed into the direction of the kitchen or, more specifically, the direction of the coffee maker.
As I started scanning the car ads again, I began quietly singing part of an old Led Zeppelin song which Andrea's presence had sparked within me now "...Sunday mornin' when we go down to church, see the men folk standin' in line, they say they come to pray to the Lord, but my little girl looks so fine..."
"What'd you say" Andrea called from the kitchen.
"I said you're beautiful, honey" I called back.
Andrea mumbled something incoherent as I sipped my coffee and continued scanning the classifieds.
"...lookin' for my street corner girl..." I continued to sing, softly.
"Honey I can't hear you from the kitchen" Andrea protested as she sat down next to me with her coffee.
"I said, - my, you're a sweet kinda girl" I now answered in song, leaning over and kissing her again.
Andrea sensed that she was being duped but wasn't quite yet coherent enough to really care what I was saying. Once she got a cup or two of coffee down, then everything would soon change and I'd have to be on my toes from then on, for the rest of the day. Game-on then, my love. I leaned over and kissed her once more, bringing a smile to her. Somehow, I felt that this gesture toward Andrea would have also brought a smile to the young girl in the oil painting as well.
"I need you to drive me over to Duffy's in about an hour, she'll take me to the dealership later and I'll drive the B.M.W. home from there." Andrea said.
"Sure honey, they got it serviced already?" I asked sipping my coffee.
"Apparently, yes ...and Duffy knows of some AQH's at the Lazy-R that we're going to go look at first though, then we'll have lunch. You'll be here around three, wont you?" Andrea asked.