Sunday Ritual

I call my dad every Sunday.  It's become a ritual since my mom passed away about nine months ago.  He's always surprised to hear my voice and for most of the conversation he is happy and positive.  We talk about the kids, his health and the economy usually in that order.  I ask him advice on some aspect of our designated topics to move the dialogue along.  Sometimes I spark a nerve with one of my questions and he passionately lectures me.  I take in all of his words and ask follow-up questions when appropriate.    This time he strays from the script and tells me a about and incident that happened at a little Italian restaurant near his house.   He was enjoying an early dinner when two women approached him.

"Right there in the middle of my goat cheese salad I saw them coming towards me.  One of them I recognized.  She started talking and wouldn't stop.  She was trying to fix me up with her friend, a recent widow, and was about as subtle as a ton of bricks!"  

I softly asked him what happened next and he relayed that he politely said he was still in mourning and quietly went back to enjoying his meal.  He then chuckled and said, "You know why they all want me don't you?"  I waited patiently for him to finish his thought.  "Beyond the fact that I am handsome, fit and a great dancer...I can drive at night!"

At eighty-two he's still got it.