Door Number One

Today is a time of reflection, a day when I really miss my girl. I really do miss my best friend, the one person in this world who knew me, who looked out for me, sometimes a bit misguided, though.

Odd things jog the memory and you think of things you never dreamed you would think of again. Times of happiness. Times of irritation. And sometimes, they fall together.

A year or so after my husband died, Brenna began hunting. What was she hunting? A man. Not one for herself…for her mother. She was looking for Mom’s “Door Number One”.

Frequently, when we were out, she would glare at me and say, “Mom, check your 5’oclock.” “Don’t look now, but slowly look behind you.” “Mom. Mom.  Door Number One coming at you.”

She actually honed in on one particular person. She said, “He would make a good dad.”

“Brenna, he IS a dad.”

“Mom, you don’t have to hold back. I like him. I would approve if you wanted to go out with him.”

“Brenna, your mom is not looking for a man. And, I am certainly NOT looking for a man who graduated before I was born.”

When she saw the older actresses choosing young men and calling themselves “cougars”, she thought THAT might be a good choice for me.

“Brenna, I am NOT going out with anyone who was born after I graduated.”

On a trip east in 2009, we stopped for breakfast at a local restaurant, somewhere in the hills of Pennsylvania. I saw two men come in and sit down. Both were in bib overhauls, t-shirts that had obviously seen better days, Dad was toothless, and both talked with a loud twang.

I smiled at Brenna and said, “Hey, Brenna, slowly look behind you. There is Door Number One and Door Number Two, one for each of us.”

I didn’t hear that phrase again.

I sure do wish she were here to say it again.