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Show Moon - 51 See the booth next to mine. A man is selling boxes with mosaics of different kinds of wood on the lids. The boxes are exquisitely crafted, and they're selling well. The man is young, and his smile flashes out color like a new-lit sparkler. He has thick red-gold hair, a generous beard to match, a high-bridged nose that's more eager than assertive, and eyes golden as a lion's. He sends out this message: "goodness, energy, fresh start." A day like this, Mother, and I almost decided to stay in New York. Ever since I'd broken my engagement to Mark I knew I belonged somewhere else, maybe in the mountains, away from the city and its men who swarmed into my life, attracted to a vulnerability they mistook for sweetness. The man in the booth selling wooden boxes was no exception, but there was something different in his liking me. He didn't seem to need me like those sad ambitious lawyers or those groping writers. He seemed complete in his own happiness and simply willing to share his good time with the world. We tossed friendly words to each other over the heads of the people. We exchanged names, made a plan to meet for dinner. This is how I met Josh. In a little seafood place near the fair, where the windows were draped with nets encrusted with seashells, anchors, and dried starfish, we soon worked it out that we'd met at that rare and lucky time: ready for the same things. We both wanted to get out of New York, to live somewhere beautiful and simple. Both his parents were dead. You had died the year before; James was my father in name only. Josh and I each had a little money saved. He was, in fact, a few years younger than me, but he didn't mind. |