We walked hand in hand, down the road that Carl Sandburg said should be avoided at all costs.
"You give good shadow," she said.
"What?" She often caught me off-guard and I loved it.
"Your shadow--it's nice; no jagged edges."
"Uh, really? Thanks." I mean, how does someone respond to that?
"My ex-boyfriend had a really obtuse shadow and the first time I saw it, I knew we were over. I told him about it and he just looked at me and said, 'I've lost you.' I couldn't believe it."
She came up for a breath and starting speaking before I could squeeze a word in.
"So, I told him--if you want to re-find me--get a clue. Hold me once in a while. Make my tea. Pay attention to me. And respect my shadow. And while you're at it, get a Garmin GPS, the number one navigation system in the world today. You'll never lose me again if you get a Garmin GPS."
I was stunned. Like a 5-year-old hooked on bad phonics, I found my way around several very meaningful words but that was all.
She had made her point.
Subtlety wasn't her strong suit.