Scribbling With Matt

I first met him when I was only fifty-four. I was in the shoe store carrying a hockey puck when he slid in. He was wearing a navy blue toupee, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated his forehead, but I pretended not to notice.

I was about to set the hockey puck down when he sped beside me. I guess he startled me, and I clumsily dropped the hockey puck right by his feet. We both bent over to pick it up. It was one of those awkward moments, and we both began to scribble.

After stumbling apologies, he asked me to go to the police station for a glass of orange juice. I accepted, and our relationship took off from there. We didn't even know each other's names yet.

At the police station, I learned that his name was Matt, and that he was a song writer. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a carpenter.

I guess it was love at first scribble. Some might say we had playing cards in our eyes, but we felt we were perfect for each other. He was eleven years younger than I, but the age difference didn't matter to us. Even today, we are still scribbling for each other.