Yesterday, I dragged the carcass out after spending all day Tuesday stuck at my desk. Self employment is a lot of work, very little control, and sporadic gratification. I continue on because my husband depends on me to look out for us all in this cooperative endeavor. I digress.
As I made my escape to the post office and the bank, under my pink umbrella in the cold pouring rain, I thought about how good it was to be out in the fresh air. It is exhilarating to be away from the damn desk. In my head, I hear the animals from Zuckerman’s farm in Charlotte’s Web cheering me on- “Run all over! Skip and dance, jump and prance!”
A blonde woman, in her champagne colored SUV, waved to me as she drove past from the opposite direction. I could hear her making her way round the twists and turns in the road. I heard her stop and turn around. I thought she must be lost as people often are. She drove up behind me, pausing to roll her window down, so I got ready to give her directions. She asked me if I’d like a ride! I thanked her and explained that I enjoyed the freedom of walking, that exercise is necessary, especially in view of the fact that I will be eating my way through the winter.
She was my age and she looked doubtful about leaving me there to find my own way in the world. I recognized the expression on her face. That thoughtful, kind, pretty woman restored my faith in humanity. I grinned all the way to town.
I stopped in to visit my friends at our lawyer’s office. It’s a law office right out of Northern Exposure; our brilliant lawyer favors blaze orange watch caps. I was given a gift of a miniature Christmas ornament necklace, custom made for me. I told my friends the latest installment in the continuing saga that is my life. We laughed about the wildly erratic romance I’ve been carrying on with that poor S.O.B who married me, discussed recipes, and out the door I went to carry on with my errands.
On the return trip home, I stopped at the end of the bridge to exchange a greeting with a tall, thin, psychologically disabled, southern man in his early 60s, who lives in subsidized housing next to the bridge. His response is usually enthusiastically positive in a voice that is high pitched with joy at being recognized. When I asked him how he was he responded, “Apprehensive, worried, full of anxiety and nervous.” That got my full attention. I asked him what was wrong. He has to have his gall bladder out. “Oh, you’re scared, aren’t you?” Yes, he’s scared, that was exactly it, scared. I’ve been afraid prior to surgery too. We talked and I told him about my own fears and worries before I had surgery. I put my hand on his arm and gave it a little squeeze of reassurance. He grinned a grin that illuminated the descending dusk and I said goodbye to make my happy way home.