A new reality

—“Back to reality,” I used to say my wife, as we arrowed onto Interstate-99 out of Altoona headed home.
Back to the semi-depressing life we lived in western NY near Rochester. Where things often went wrong, and I’d feel I deserved it, reprehensible and disgusting that I perceived myself to be.
Rail-fanning Altoony was always fun, trains climbing Allegheny Mountain with incredible frequency, all “assaulting the heavens!”
“All American railfans, BY LAW, should be required to visit Horseshoe Curve.”
(The “Mighty Curve” is just west of Altoona.)
The allure of Altoony continued after my wife died, but so did “back to reality!”
Even recently, chasing and photographing trains with my brother, “back to reality” continued.
Last February I noticed a difference. Returning home no longer seemed so unpleasant.
I thought about it (“Uh-ohhh…….”), then realized the difference is lady-friends.
Nickel Plate 765 at 70 mph is thrilling, but so is my pharmacist lady-friend turning toward me smiling. She’s happy to see me. “We can talk.”
Back home to Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming-pool, there to be joyously greeted by my lifeguard friend(s), and my pixie aquacise-instructor with her smiling eyes.
There would be pretty ******* at my supermarket, who I no longer call “pigtail-girl,” since that’s demeaning.
She always smiles at me when I say hello, and that’s all I do. Although we talked a tiny bit more recently.
“Kyle, Kyle, crocodile,” the ear-worm ***** gave me the other day at that supermarket.
“Kyle” is her son.
Plus the pretty young jogger I chance meeting along Lehigh Valley RailTrail.
Plus all the other girls with whom I strike up conversations.
And per my lifeguard friend, it’s not flirting.
But if I strike up a conversation that tells that girl I was attracted to her. “Goodie!” A guy I can talk to, and he’s not hitting on me.”
My all-knowing brother near Boston noisily disputes my joyous encounters with lady friends.
“DREAMIN’!” he bellows; as do my other critics.
So why is my leaving Altoona no longer “back to reality?”
Lady-friends, I realized.
Totally inconceivable a couple years ago.
But now so many joyous lady-friend encounters occur even my rail-fanning is becoming secondary.

• Another lady-friend (a critic) once told me what women love doing most is talking. My pharmacist lady-friend is very much a talker; and much to my surprise.