Visiting Debbie, 3

It's almost exactly a year (within a week) since the last time I visited Debbie, and here I am again.

I had another week working at the plant in Sticksville, a very tiring and difficult week. And then another 3-4 hour drive down here. And now it's bedtime and I'm going to sleep in the guest room.

But it seems like each time my visit gets a little longer. The first time I spent one night. The second ... I forget, but I think it was two nights. This will be three nights: Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, flying home on Monday.

We cooked dinner together, did dishes together, and went out to buy groceries for the weekend together. We talked about the troubles at our respective works. As we sat down to eat she said she was really grateful for my visit — well sure, I'm grateful for it too — and then added that it's special because I'm the only one who has ever come to visit her and stay here. Late this evening she opened up a volume of Walt Whitman that she had bought because today is his 200th birthday, and we took turns reading stanzas to each other ... all about his nakedness and his "man root" and how much he loves for his friend to kiss his chest near the heart.

But there's no more sexual undertone between Debbie and me, of course.

I'm expecting a quiet visit. After a week like this last one, I look forward to it.

It's time for sleep. Debbie was about to turn in too, and then got an emergency call from work. (She's on-call 24x7.)

Night night.


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