“Frikkie, you’ve got that dreamy look in your eyes and that small frown between your eyes. Do you want to tell me something?”

Silence for 13 seconds. “Hey bok?”

“No, I have nothing to say”

“Huh! Nothing to say.. to me”…

Silence.

“Something” Frikkie says out of nowhere.

“Huh, what was that Frikkie?”

“You said: ‘do you want to tell me something?’ So, I said, something”.

“Yiree bok, don’t overtax yourself. That’s almost 3 sentences. Before your second coffee.”

The thing with Frikkie’s form of philosophy and ponderings, is that it’s all happening at a non-verbal level. Sonja says it’s in his vibrations, that he potentially operates at a higher frequency between his being and doing. She’s always sprouting kak like that. Sometimes it makes me feel like I understand another part of Frikkie when I think through Sonja’s eyes. Aag, you know what I mean. Words.

Other times I also wonder if Sonja is indirectly saying something to me about my frequencies, cos I’m a chatterer. Not a chatterbox. I don’t fit into any kind of box. In fact, I’m not even going for a coffin one day.

I said to Frikkie, “Bok, I want a natural burial.”

He looked at me, you know, with those piercing green eyes. That look. Like I’m asking him to dig a hole right now under the paw paw tree.

Then I said, “I’m not asking you to do it”.

He gave me another look, which suggested he needed time to think about what I said or risk being on the edge of offering to start digging right now.

Anyways, back to Frikkie and philosophies, I never would have guessed, but over these 25 years I realized I read his heart best when we walk quietly on the beach or in the bush, holding hands and not talking.

Sonja says she doesn’t believe it. That I ever go silent and stop talking I mean. She’s a fine one. At least I don’t use words like higher frequency at every chance. Frikkie only speaks when he has something to say. It’s like gourmet, I told Sonja. He chooses few words and arranges them thoughtfully and often very beautifully. And I relish those morsels, every tasty bite.

Sonja just looked at me like I’d stepped off another planet when I told her that. We were chatting about intimacy that day. Sonja sometimes chooses themes. She would have liked to be a talk show host I think.

I asked her: “Why such a fancy word? Intimacy sounds like it should be a toothpaste or deodorant”,

“It’s a higher frequency word for staying curious and connected to someone you love” Sonja said.

“And not minding their smelly socks” I added.

Sonja rolled her eyes then.

“It’s gotta be real Sonja. Its gotta be real”

Frikkie had just come into the kitchen then. He looked at me. He looked at Sonja. He had that twerk on the right side of his lower lip. Just there. Ja, I thought. A tasty little non-verbal appetizer. And I saw that he was still wearing those purple socks with different little pirate figures that I gave him for our anniversary. I smiled sideways.

Sonja said: “I’m in the kitchen too you know, you two”.

Sonja had told me yesterday that I talk about sex too much. And even when I’m not talking about it, my non-verbals exude sexual energy when Frikkie’s around.

She gave me that I told you so look. “Jeepers Sonja”. I choked on my tea. Frikkie shuffled out the kitchen in a hurry, as I gaffawed with what Sonja likes to call my dirty laugh.

©prunellalighthouse, 2022