I got an anonymous e-mail this morning entitled “you and me”, it was sent last Tuesday from an unknown location.

I wrote recently about sex and the elderly,  I pledged to be open about my life on the blog, but the truth is I am a prude, I never talk about sex and the word usually causes me to blush. I was startled by the photo, but I knew almost instantly who sent it.

“Did you sent me this erotic photograph?,” I asked my wife who, still groggy from her trip, was right in the next room.

Absolutely she said, “it reminded me of me and you.” I blushed again, big-time. She said she sent it last Thursday from the Nagda Temple outside of Udaipur, India. It took a week to get here, and small wonder, that couple was probably busy.

She did not blush, she thought it was a great photo and it reminded her, she said, of me. I looked at the photo a few times, and I can’t say I see myself in it, but I kind of liked the idea, it grew on me. I think my head and his head look the same.

I did touch off a minor social media firestorm last week by admitting that I missed her breasts while she was away. I am fond of them.

In our culture, we run and hide from sex, it is a taboo to mention it. In more highly evolved and sophisticated cultures like India, sex is celebrated, it is considered an elemental part of the spiritual life, of being human. I have learned in my lengthening life that is true. And I am in my sixth decade, an accomplished author, my hair is finally turning gray.

At my age, sex is a blessed and holy miracle, whenever it occurs. I do like that she thought of us.

But I’m not in the habit of getting erotic photographs in the mail. Is it appropriate?

I think I’ll make it my screen saver for a few days, just to think about it.