Being a widower wasn’t the path I would have chosen given a choice, but it was the path that life put me on, so I had to try and figure out what was next. After 40 years of marriage it was a whole new set of challenges. I have always enjoyed cooking, so now I had to figure out how to adapt to cooking for one. The laundry was always done by my wife because I never could figure out which items had to be washed in a knit bag or which items couldn’t go in the dryer. Folding I could do, but washing, never. Well now all the mundane tasks I managed to avoid for all those years were all on me. For the most part I was adapting well, my clothes were clean and I always looked reasonably presentable. The house and bathroom were acceptably clean with no tumbleweeds of Rocky fur rolling across the floor whenever anyone walked past and no mold growing in the grout of the tile in the shower. My bed, while not classically “made”, at least had the covers pulled up and straightened out, not that I had any expectations of anyone seeing it to matter anyhow.
As a result of my need to occupy my time, my Rocky gets more frequent and long walks as well as her social time at the park on Sunday mornings. With no one else’s schedule, needs, wants or desires to take into consideration, dinner could wait until we went for a 30 — 45 minute walk when I got home from work. This gave me time to decompress, listen to music on my headphones and gave both the Rocky and I needed exercise. My neighbors have gotten so used to seeing me that most will wave even if we’ve never met or spoken to each other.
The route I take 2 or 3 times a week takes me past the house of a woman who had worked with my wife and became a good friend during her lasts months. Tracy had retired from teaching, but still worked as a substitute and a tutor. Often, she would come over and visit with my wife while I was at work and even took her to chemotherapy once when my wife decided that it would be better than me having to take another day off from work. She is a small woman, maybe five foot one or two, thin with what some might consider an underdeveloped chest. I differ with those people after having seen 38D’s turn into 38 extra longs. Small breasts with sensitive nipples are much more enjoyable to me than large ones that sag and flop around. To me though her finest physical attribute is her ass. Slim and obviously still taut, seemingly unaffected by the ravages of age.
Occasionally, if she saw me coming down the street, she would come outside and we would chat for a while. After my wife passed, she texted me every day for the first week or so, just to check on me and make sure I was OK. One Saturday, a few months after my wife passed, she saw me coming and came out to say “Hi” and chat for a bit. She asked how I was doing with settling in by myself. Jokingly I replied “Well, rumor has it that I’m now the most eligible bachelor in the neighborhood. But I’m still waiting for the line of anxious women to form at my door.” Laughing, she said “Careful, I might be at the head of the line.” I smiled as the little voice in the back of my head said “If only”. We talked some more about some changes she was having done on her house and how glad she was that it was done. The only other thing she wanted to do was to change the door knobs on the two outside doors. We chatted a bit more and then, after watching her ass as she went back inside, finished the walk with the Rocky.
About a week and a half later, I ran into Tracy in the grocery. She had obviously been at school that day because she was dressed much differently than the jeans and sweatshirt. I was used to seeing her in. She had on a pair of dark blue slacks that fit her perfectly, accentuating her ass to the delight of a couple of other customers who let their gaze linger, although them being behind her, she never noticed. A very pretty flowered blouse, a pair of low heels and her reddish brown hair styled perfectly completed the professional educator look. I gave her a quick head to toe scan and teased “You clean up really well.” She chuckled and gave a mock curtsy.