Ray Rasmussen

Spicy Noodle Soup

"I'm okay with living alone," she has often said. "I can't give myself over to one demanding man."

Yet, it has been a long dry spell for her: no romance, no lovers, none of the physical contact that she craves. She had become increasingly resentful that the world of men render women in their 50s invisible. That resentment may be a reason why some men hesitate to cast an amorous look in her direction.

But today is different. In the dimly lit Tai restaurant, she sports a hint of a smile and even giggles, a sound that I usually associate with teen-aged girls, as she announces, "I have a lover. I met him several weeks ago."

Good for her, I think to myself. We slurp noodles from our spicy soup, our foreheads beading with sweat.

Her eyes are sparkling. "It may be love, I don't know, I don't care," she says. "I've jumped off the cliff."

I don't say, I hope it's a long way to the bottom.

late spring romance

 the wild rose
flush with buds

This is a revision of a haibun that was published in Haiku Harvest, 5:1, 2007.