Ravin's Ramblings

“Congrats Mom!” I chimed into the phone, “How long have you been married? Thirty-four years? Thirty-five?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I haven’t had my coffee yet.” She tells me in annoyance, “Wayne, how long have we been married?”

“How old is Melissa?” I hear him yell in the background.

“What?!?” My mother yells back, “It’s our anniversary, not her birthday!”

“How old is she?” He hollers again; this time he sounds annoyed. From the sounds creaking I can tell he's sitting in his chair in the parlor.

“Thirty!” She shouts.

“Twenty-nine!” I correct indignantly.

“Close enough.” My mother scolds.

“Wheeeell let’s see…” my father drawls out, “That makes it we’ve been married twenty-eight years!”

“Wayne!” I hear my mother’s scandalized tones followed by my father’s mischievous cackle.

Then I hear his voice fading in song, presumably as he fleas my mother's admonishing gaze, “Oh when I was single my pockets would jingle. I’ll never be single again…”