Hi, Gorgeous




“Hi, Gorgeous!”  He often began notes that way. He thought I was beautiful. He made me feel beautiful. I miss that. His sweet comments as I came downstairs and into his view - dressed for a night out or a day in. His playful leers as I undressed for a shower.

In his eyes I had no flaws. He was blind to all of the “soft, sagginess” of aging. I was always his lovely Paula Marie. He forever saw me as the 17-year-old girl who passed his desk as she timidly entered English class.

And he always loved me just the way I was. He was my Mr. Rogers.


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