Friday, September 20, 2013

For The Love of Kathy

by Frank Beresheim

          I went to my bedroom,  sat down in my single bed.  I stared up at the ceiling and nursed the beer I was drinking.  I often thought of Kathy her long red hair, freckles, blue eyes and a smile that could light the sky.  Those were the times of my life, always believed she was the one.  We always had fun together, we liked the same foods, music, she played keyboards and I played guitar, walks through the city, long bike rides.  We had a lot of fun riding around in my old white Cadillac.  She was always happy until my drinking got worse, and she left me, with the saddest face I had ever seen.  I finished my cigarette, put the butt in the can, and got ready for bed.
          I laid down and closed my eyes and I wound up in Crazy Charlie’s Bar and grill.  Charlie’s was one of the most unique bars I had ever had the privilege to drink at.  It had a coffin nailed to the ceiling along with many other things, like a violin, several women’s garters, funky glasses, an old wooden tool box, including hundred of more items.  I looked in the dining room, and saw the tables with the butcher paper across the table, and crayons.  I remember going in there many times with Kathy.  We had fun writing on the paper, drawing pictures, and was reminded that this was where I first told her that I loved her. I wrote I love you in all in red, in a red heart.  When she first saw it, she appeared to be shocked, but did not reciprocate it.  I remember thinking, maybe she doesn’t really like me.  I got up to go to the bathroom, and as I walked by her, she grabbed me by the waist and rose up to greet me with a kiss.  She looked me straight in the eye and said “I love you” right out loud, followed by a big kiss.  I said I would be right back, and headed for the bathroom.  I used the facilities and when I washed my hands I looked up at the mirror and mouthed the words she said "I love you",  I felt like the greatest man in the world, she loves me.  We ate our dinner and went back to her place, spent the night loving each other. 

 Frank Beresheim was born in New York City in 1959 and  moved to the Catskill Mountains as a child, returning to Queens at age 16, where he began writing poetry and playing music.  Married in 1988, Frank found his way back to the Catskills and never looked back.  He lives with his wife and two teenaged sons in the friendly community of Saugerties, NY.

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