François' Quest

3

That proved to be the longest week of his life. Saturday took forever to get there. Finally the day arrived. He got so nervous, uncharacteristically. What to wear? Get a shave and a haircut. Cologne. New shirt, pants. Polish up the shoes. "I am acting like a teenage girl." He berated himself in the mirror.
Lowdian tried on six dresses then went back to the original one. Practically every piece of clothing she had was thrown on her bed. She had to dig down to pull out the first dress that she tried on. "Maybe I should look dowdy. I don't want him to think I am just another pretty face. He has to see my intelligence. The most important thing."
She never believed in love at first sight but...........
When she arrived at the entrance of the restaurant he was standing there already waiting for her. She watched him as she approached. Hands in his pant pockets walking back and forth restlessly in front of the restaurant. If someone approached the door he would open it for them and smile as they thanked him. When he saw her his face lit up. By the look in his eye she knew what he thought of what he saw.
She smiled.
'There it is again.' François thought.
"You look lovely." He said.
"Thank you. You too."
He opened the door as every gentleman should.
"Which table would you like to sit at? Yours? Mine?" He asked with humor.
"Why don't we pick a new one just for us?"
"Excellent idea." He put his hand on the small of her back letting her go first behind the maître d' as he led them to their table. 'Fresh love.' François thought. 'For both of us. Maybe.'
The evening was progressing splendidly. They hardly talked about the food. She just agreed that he should order for them, that was the end of the food discussion. Both of them liked everything the restaurant had to offer.
They talked about books, authors, poets, science, the stock market, latest news. Both excited about how much they had in common.
"Which part of Thoreau's Walden do you like the best?" François asked her.
"I am not a typically Jamaican woman." She said smiling shyly.
"What do you mean?"
"You will find out when I show you my favorite part." She pulled out a copy of Walden out of her purse. François was impressed but not as impressed as he would be when she was finished.
"Here it is. May I read it to you?"
François was thrilled,"By all means......please do!"
"Thoreau said, 'I had three pieces of limestone on my desk, but I was terrified to find that they required to be dusted daily, when the furniture of my mind was all undusted still, and threw them out the window in disgust. How, then, could I have a furnished house? I would rather sit in the open air, for no dust gathers on the grass, unless where man has broken ground. It is the luxurious and dissipated who set the fashions which the herd so diligently follow.'"
François loved watching her read to him. She just smiled with confidence and conviction when she was finished.
"And the conclusion of the matter is?" He asked her.
"I am neither a slave to house nor fashion. People run to be in the latest fashion only to laugh at those fashions six months later. It is foolishness."
François just kept smiling, letting her speak.
"Can I read my most favorite poem to you? I wrote it on the blank page of Thoreau's book. I knew that he wouldn't mind." She giggled.
"Certainly, please do, with pleasure."
"Dust if you must,
but wouldn't it be better
To paint a picture, or write a letter,
Bake a cake, or plant a seed;
Ponder the difference between want and need?

Dust if you must,
but there's not much time,
With rivers to swim, and mountains to climb;
Music to hear, and books to read;
Friends to cherish, and life to lead.

Dust if you must,
but the world's out there
With the sun in your eyes,
and the wind in your hair;
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain,This day will not come around again.

Dust if you must, but bear in mind,
Old age will come and it's not kind.
And when you go and go you must You, yourself, will make more dust.

Remember, a house becomes a home when you can write "I love you"

.......on the furniture....."

François was irresistibly and irreversible drawn to her.
Then she finished off by saying, "I would not make a very good candidate for marriage, would I?" Said with a shy, awkward smile on her face.
Allowing that comment and question to hang in the air for a moment then François popped the question that drove everything to a screeching halt. She just stared at him wide-eyed. He knew he would get that reaction but he asked it anyway.
"Where do you see yourself ten years from now?"