It showed itself in the gentle, slow, considerate way that Paul treated me, how his kisses were as much about giving as they were about taking or satisfying a hunger, although both of us, I knew, were getting pretty hungry. And, of course, later in my visit by Paul and me. I don’t know about you, but I think I almost died there. But among those skills came the ability to communicate some things without talk, without words. Paul shocked us both by soon after hitting a triple, the hardest hit in baseball. Paul in his golf shirt and slacks, me in another sun dress, a recent purchase. It was soon settled, Dad dug into his wallet and pressed a bunch of bills in my hand with the suggestion I arrange dinner for Paul and me, and with hugs and kisses they headed to their car and headed off to the lake. “No you don’t, bro, NO YOU DON’T,” I laughed. Thinking of all those young women who, as I suspect, don’t get to savor the love
