Saying Yes

Oh dear. Widower's remorse strikes again!

Widower's remorse is my term for it, but I dare say that widows experience the same thing. Let me tell you about my latest bout...

I'm selling my home. A land agent suggested that I remove an unsightly carport. I took his advice. I spent the weekend painting a newly exposed wall. It looks terrific. The outlook from the kitchen window has improved a hundredfold.

Jude had always wanted the carport removed. We don't use it, she'd said; it's ugly; its removal will lighten up the kitchen. She was right. But dammit, my Scottish genes prevailed. Why pay good money, I'd asked, to remove something that may prove useful?

The carport's demise wasn't a matter of huge moment to Jude. It was just one of those trivial issues that arise daily in a marriage. In this case, my "no" had happened to prevail.

How I wish it hadn't. Thirty months too late, I kept thinking as I painted that wall. I'm doing this thirty months too late. The carport meant nothing to me, but its removal would have delighted Jude. All I had to do was say yes. Why didn't I?

Next time you're about to<