Praying With Bud

I first met him when I was only fifty-three. I was in the malt shop carrying a crate when he skittered in. He was wearing an emerald green letter jacket, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated his esophagus, but I pretended not to notice.

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

After stumbling apologies, he asked me to go to the mortuary for a Bloody Mary. I accepted, and our relationship took off from there. We didn't even know each other's names yet.

At the mortuary, I learned that his name was Bud, and that he was a researcher. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a construction worker.

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