Author Archives: Bronwyn Wilson

Visions of Buffalo Dancing on Our Tile

Fancy-Schmancy (not its real name) tile store.

“No. I don’t accept. Cancel our order!” Jerry said.

We had driven north of Phoenix, way out in nowhere. It took forever to get to the Fancy-Schmancy Tile & Stone Company. For all I knew we had reached the Canadian border by the time Jerry and I pulled into the tile store’s parking lot. Eh?

Before embarking on our long drive northward, I had called various tile stores to inquire about terracotta tile, the kind of tile I wanted for our atrium. Only Fancy-Schmancy had what I wanted. read more

Quiet Please, When You Enter the Magic Room

“I CAN’T HEAR-RRRRRR YOUUUUUU!” Jerry’s voice thunders so loud that anyone within a mile radius requires hearing protection.

We had just parked at a tile store to check out tile for our new atrium or garden room, or as Jerry calls it, “Magic Room.” Jerry says he envisions our patio enclosed in glass with indirect lighting and huge potted plants. He sees it in his mind and it will be magical.

To make the magic come alive, we need the right kind of tile for the Magic Room’s floor.

Before entering the store, we stop to check out the tile samples displayed in the parking lot. I say something to Jerry, (I can’t remember what I said as my memory is short, but whatever it was, Jerry didn’t hear). His hearing is not like it used to be. At one time, when we were younger, I could whisper to my son something like, “Don’t tell your dad, but we have ice cream in the freezer.” Jerry, far from earshot in another room, would call out, “Ice cream! What flavor?” read more

It Seemed Like It Would Be So Easy (another delusional thought)

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After a fabulous Thanksgiving dinner with our sister-in-law, her husband and our niece and nephew as well as their family friends, Jerry and I left their home around 7 p.m.

Jerry agreed to stop at Kohl’s (which opened its doors at 6 p.m.) so I could do some early Black Friday shopping. After all, it was on our way home. “I’ll run in and run out,” I told Jerry. Before saying good-bye to our very special and dear sister-in-law Julie, she cautioned, “Kohl’s will be very crowded.” read more

Life After Shingles

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“Bronwyn, call the cops!” Jerry hollered across the parking lot.

Jerry and I had stopped at the post office. I had just rushed inside to pick up a package while Jerry waited in the car. As I exited, I heard someone calling my name rather loudly. Is there another Bronwyn somewhere nearby? I didn’t know what to think.

That’s when I noticed Jerry standing in the middle of the parking lot, his face red with smoke pouring out of his ears.

What’s going on? I had left him seated calmly in the car. What had happened? read more

When Life Stops

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Life stops when you’re in pain.

“Aren’t you glad you don’t have to go to work?” Jerry says, hoping to make me feel better, reminding me that suffering shingles has its good points. I admit, the knowledge I’m free of the guilt that comes with calling in sick and letting your boss down because of a drawn-out illness, does ease my pain slightly.

‘Yes, Jerry,” I say. “That’s one good thing.”

I’m pretty much over the sickness that comes with shingles; the fever, the headaches, the muscle aches. I still have the itchy, blotchy red rash, the slashing-knife, nerve pain, and the tiredness. Advil helps, but I don’t want to take it the rest of my life. I’m into the third week as the shingles drag on. I’ve lived in my pajamas the entire time, since clothing causes misery and pajamas are less constricting. read more