Wailing With Babs

I first met her when I was only sixty-three. I was in the travel agency carrying a banana when she tore in. She was wearing a black military uniform, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated her foot, but I pretended not to notice.

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

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

At the malt shop, I learned that her name was Babs, and that she was a piano tuner. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a mechanical engineer.

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