Love is Blind

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After gardening I notice some annoying bumps on the back of my hand. My first instinct is to worry in case they are warts.

Next day, at breakfast, I observe the rash appears less inflamed; it must be the result of something I’ve touched in the garden.

I say to Joe, ‘Feel this, what do you think it is?’

‘Braille, it says, “I Love You”, but it’s missing the comma.’

‘But ‘I Love You,’ doesn’t need a comma.’

‘Then it says, ‘immensely and deeply!’

How can I worry about a few bumps after such an interpretation?

20 thoughts on “Love is Blind”

      1. M-R

        I would’ve, but for my sorry tale re the need for a new laptop (see blog, if you can bear it). I kept telling my friends about you and you adorable husband and his art: but I thought you lived in Drysdale or Daylesford …

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    1. bkpyett Post author

      Dear Margaret Rose, how lovely to hear from you again after some years! I wonder, are you still living in Victoria? If you venture onto the other side, you might like to come and see Chris’s paintings? I hope you’re keeping well. As you can see blogging is a thing of my past, but writing has become something I can immerse myself in and become quite antisocial. I hope you’re finding writing a solace as well. Best wishes to you M-R, thank you for keeping in touch.

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  5. Aunt Beulah

    I haven’t read anything in a long time as genuinely romantic and heart-thrilling as your husband’s words. He sounds like a dear, intelligent, creative and loving person. Lucky you! And lucky him for having someone like you to love!

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