His late wife was like a blonde willow, lithe and slim, flaxen-hair caressing her shoulders, pale blue eyes and elegant bearing. She might have been a...model except that she was shy and would almost disappear in a crowd if she chose to. He closed his eyes and thought of her. It was almost as though she was with him again. He could see her standing in their garden, but she was transparent. She was wearing one of those feather-light summer dresses she loved and a wide-brim straw hat to keep the. A quick stiffening and the return of her right hand stopped me about half way up her graceful thigh. Her hand rested gently on mine as if saying, "Hold up. I sure enjoy this. but it shouldn't happen." For a brief moment I paused. With this pause, her body relaxed, but her delicate hand remained. A co-worker popped his head in my office. We exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes. Her hand fell away. Even before the interloper left I began once again the delicious climb of the stairs to heaven.. More

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