Bob sanded the spackle until it was smooth.  The orange wall was whitened with the dust.  He wondered what had made him paint it such a hideous color.  Oh yeah, the seventies.  

 

Ann unscrolled the wallpaper from the window sill down to the baseboard radiator. It was a bit of an effort to crouch down but she managed to keep her balance.

 

“Honey, this will look great with the ivory linen paint.  See, it will only go as high as the window sill, and then paint the rest.”  Getting down was one thing.  The getting back up took a second as she had to balance, put a knee down, and then grab the window to pull herself back up.  ‘I’ve really got to get back to yoga class.’ she thought.

 

“What about the border?”  Bob dusted out of his hair. 

“That is going to be even with the sill.”

Bob grunted in agreement.  “This is going to be great, I get my den back.  I’ll put the bookshelves here… and the desk over here.”  Ann blocked out the room, showing her husband where the furniture would go.  “After twenty-six years, we finally get the house to ourselves.  And my den.”  Her eyes widened.  She looked at her husband with a wicked smile.  

 

Bob laughed shaking his head.  “Two weeks from now you’ll be complaining that Meg hasn’t called.  You’ll want to send a letter to Kathy and Brian.  You’ll complain that Mike and Maura see Mike’s parents more often.  And you’ll want to give all three boys care packages at college.”  He worked the cracked paint free from the trim that surrounded the door jam.  “I know you, you pretend you want to give them all the “bum’s rush” out of the house, but this place is just so big without them that you’ll be making reservations for junior year parents weekend when John’s still a sophomore.”

 

“You think I’ll miss those rotten little crumb crushers?  Twenty-six years of headaches.  Complaining teachers, bad concerts, overzealous coaches, angry neighbors, and bad influence friends? No.”

 

“Yes, you will, along with the proms, boosters, and the PTA.  Hell, you were an institution at the meetings.  What was it? Twenty years of meetings, even the superintendent has been here that long.  I am surprised they didn’t give you a gold watch.  He set down his scraper and wrapped his arms around his wife.  “You can fool everyone else, but not me.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t miss them.  I just said I was glad to get my den back.”  She smiled softly and looked into her sixty-year-old husband’s deep blue eyes.  

 

She leaned into Bob’s chest and squeezed him tight.  Bob pulled back and lifted her chin, kissing her on the lips.  

 

“This can wait,” She said as she led her husband to their room.  She closed and locked the door behind her.