Rhapsody In Blue

Standing at the kitchen counter, listening to Gershwin and cutting up a melon. Remembering how Greg used to use the top of a pizza box as a cutting board when he would cut up the melons he'd buy for a treat - this after lugging them home from the market and up five flights of stairs. Once he forgot the umbrella by the door and I remember a pissed-off Greg hacking into the watermelon and spitting epithets. Usually, it was a mellow Greg talking about the play we were going to see, asking if I wanted to go to Sardi's after the play, or reminding me that he was going to meet me at the bookstore when I got off work (so we could go see a play). 

All those watermelons and cantaloupes were much healthier than walking to Haagen-Dazs or Ben & Jerry's every night he was there (which we also did), but in NYC, watermelons were probably just as or more expensive than gourmet ice cream. I think about and dream about Greg so much more than I ever take the time to write about anymore, I just figured I'd postpone grading for all of 5 minutes and share a happy memory...maybe easing back in with a quick one will get the old wheels turning for a more elaborate post. Also, I actually picked out a rather shitty cantaloupe on my own and I really miss my old man tonight. Them's the breaks....