Lifting the veil

Already the veil has been tucked away. So scared of the prospect of getting married again. And lifting the veil on my own insecurities, oh my no… I would rather tuck it all safely away, together with the tons of birthday cards we never receive and the notes once the invites are posted. Bakerman has brought me a cheesecake and saucage rolls. I put the fresh in the fridge on platters, ripe for plucking.

“I’m also scared of Willem and that damn swimming pool,” I tell him as I go about my kitchen re-arranging the contents of my refrigerator. “Think I’m going to start blogging again. Is that okay? I am tired of conversations with the Bakerman who delivers my daily bread and makes me fat… And I’ve got time again.”

I look into this eyes as he leaves my house and busies himself to get on to his rounds. I say to myself he should be like Jesus, my personal coach to greatness. No more hiding behind flimsy veils.

Love,

Fiona

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