Shriveling With Mildred

I first met her when I was only twenty-one. I was in the bus station carrying a Van Gogh when she tiptoed in. She was wearing a navy blue derby, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated her Adam's apple, but I pretended not to notice.

I was about to set the Van Gogh down when she tiptoed beside me. I guess she startled me, and I clumsily dropped the Van Gogh right by her feet. We both bent over to pick it up. It was one of those awkward moments, and we both began to shrivel.

After stumbling apologies, I asked her to go to the coffee shop for a milkshake. She accepted, and our relationship took off from there. We didn't even know each other's names yet.

At the coffee shop, I learned that her name was Mildred, and that she was a massage therapist. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a weatherman.

I guess it was love at first shrivel. Some might say we had hand puppets in our eyes, but we felt we were perfect for each other. She was eighteen years younger than I, but the age difference didn't matter to us. Even today, we are still shriveling for each other.