It keeps happening

—“I’m guessing the reason you just waved at me was because I said hello to you the other day down at Wegmans.”
I said that to a cute mother rescuing her children from Canandaigua’s YMCA “child-watch.”
“Yep!” she smiled.
I recognized her bare-shouldered top even under her sweater. (“GASP!”)
Like most mothers her age she was a little heavy in her hips and legs.
But she was cute and her smile was ravishing.
I get to notice such things; it’s one of the perks of geezerdom.
Outside she told me she was headed for the bank. We spoke a little more about that.
Readers, I woulda never said anything to her five years ago. I woulda walked DIRECTLY outta that YMCA, then down the steps. The mere fact I noticed her woulda been DISGUSTING.
Things are so different since my wife died.
I strike up conversations with women willy-nilly.
By so doing I tell that lady she attracted me.
Which — perish-the-thought — she likes.
I pretty much kept to myself before my wife died. I didn’t wanna hurt her feelings; she’d feel threatened.
Beyond that I had no confidence.
A female strike sparks with a lifelong scum-bag? “No female will have anything to do with you Bobby!”
Now I’m headed straight for Hell, merrily striking sparks with all my “friends who happen to be female.”
She turns toward me, our eyes meet, and she smiles at me.
“Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. Fiery furnace for you Bobby!”
My childhood is being flip-flopped.
It keeps happening and happening and happening.