Raw Talent

 

 

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Jim slipped out of bed to pull back the bedroom drapes; the wood tiled floor was cold on his bare feet.  At the sight of a sparkling white frost covering the lawn, he shivered. 

Across the valley, a reflection caught his attention.  A yellow school bus, negotiating a bend in the gravel road, disappeared behind a line of pine trees.  He pitied those youngsters heading off so early to school, on these frosty mornings. 

Yawning, he hastily climbed back into bed, ‘Just a few minutes more, then I’ll get up.’  He mumbled to himself.  Fluffing up his pillow and punching it into shape, he snuggled down beside Mary.  

It only seemed like a couple of minutes had passed, instead, it was half an hour, before a warm breath caressed his cheek.

            “C’mon sleepy head;” a gentle voice purred in his ear.  “You are supposed to be out of this bed.” 

“Mmmmm,” he murmured sleepily.

Eyes half closed, Jim rolled over, his hands groping in the direction of that comforting voice. 

“Settle down.” Mary chuckled, stepping to one side and slapping his hand.  “Don’t you even think about getting funny ideas, chum!  Just get that little backside of yours out of the sack.” 

Hands on hips, she stood by the bed grinning like the cat that had licked the last of the cream.     “Don’t forget, you have an appointment today.” 

            “It’s too cold.” moaned Jim, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “You’re a wicked woman, you know that?  I can see I will have to put you across my knee, like I did sixty years ago.” 

“Ha. . . . You and who’s Army,” Mary giggled, jumping out of Jim’s reach.