November 24, 2021
This past weekend, my husband
finally had the opportunity to travel a few hours from home, to visit a friend
he hadn’t seen face to face in 46 years. It was a year ago yesterday, when out
of the blue I received a message on FB from this gentleman, who I recognized
immediately.
A long time ago, beginning
before we got married, David and this man, along with a few other friends of like
mind formed a “car club”, rented space, and got together to talk all things
vehicles. They would work on each other’s cars, and between them there had been
no car problem they couldn’t fix. Those were the days of the back yard
mechanic, before computer chips took over, and they used to spend a lot of time
together. Fixing cars by weekend days, heading to the local watering-hole at
night. Sadly, two of that group no longer walk the earth.
This old friend, whose name is
John had sent a hello message to me, because I am a friend of another friend of
his, and he thought the name “Morgan” was interesting. Once he knew who I was,
of course, he asked about David, so I put them in touch with each other,
electronically-wise.
They’ve been chatting through
that medium on a regular basis ever since. (John lives in an area with almost
no Wi-Fi or cell phone reception, so he doesn’t have a cell phone. And his
Internet is dial-up.) It turned out they had one important thing in the here
and now that they share, and it’s a powerful thing to have in common: they are
both recovering alcoholics, both of them sober now for more than three decades.
This was a trip David had
originally hoped to take in August, but life happened, as it often does, and he
had to postpone the adventure.
His original plan had been to
take a bus up north, because an eight hour return drive, with me as the driver,
is quite simply impossible. This worked out much better, anyway, even if it was
only going there on Saturday and returning Sunday evening. John’s son, who
lives about thirty minutes from here drove, and David paid for the gas, which
was much less than bus fare would have been.
The day before he visited a
butcher shop in our area and purchased three T-bone steaks, what David calls “plate”
steaks. A plate steak is one that takes up the entirety of the plate.
Our two young dogs (they’ll be
2 years old on Sunday so we can’t really call them puppies anymore even if they
are still small) knew that something was up on Friday. And then, of course, we
were all up and out of bed before daybreak Saturday morning. David left the
house at 4:30 a.m. I, foolishly, had thought that likely by 8 or 9 I’d return
to bed because 4:30 is just too early for this old woman to be awake. My days
of functioning well on three hours sleep are in the past.
The dogs had a different idea.
It wasn’t difficult for me to figure out their reasoning. You see, if we were behind
the closed door of the bedroom, why, they wouldn’t be able to keep watch for their
daddy, who was sure to come back through that front door any minute now…
I spent the first daddyless-day
coddling the two dogs, Missy and Bear-Bear, who didn’t know where their daddy
had gone, or if he would ever return. Of course, judging by their behavior, this
is their state of mind whenever he leaves their sight, be it to go out and work
in the upper back yard, walk a dog sibling, go out with the human-sibling (our
daughter), to go with me to get the groceries.
These small dogs do not like change,
period. Nor do they like to be without either of their two main humans, though
it is their daddy that matters the most, and that is fine with me.
Also, the two of them have whining,
howling and shivering and, of course, the puppy-dog eyes down to a very fine
art. Fortunately, by 11:30 Saturday night they willingly accompanied me back to
the bedroom, where we all three were beyond tired and able to enjoy a solid night’s
rest. Of course, I took David’s pillows and placed them further down on the
mattress. Missy immediately climbed on one and actually sighed. Bear tends to
like to sleep close to me, and that didn’t change.
The next day was much better
with only occasional bouts of whining and looking sad. Of course, all was well,
sunshine, lollipops and unicorn rainbows around six in the evening, when the
door opened, and there, at long puppy-last was the daddy of the family.
I knew that David had been a
little worried, as this reunion approached. Not about the virus, because his
friend, who has several “comorbidities” had been fully vaccinated, and like us
practiced extreme safety. No, it was wondering about the person he would find
when he arrived that had made him a bit anxious. That’s only natural because a
person can change completely over nearly five decades. Happily, David found
that once he was there, and they started talking, his worries faded to nothing.
Helping with that was learning that John had felt the same way. But they liked
each other’s company, and David hopes to go back to visit him in the spring.
I had thought that the dogs
might be on alert for a couple of days post-trip, seeing as how the daddy just
up and left them the way he had. I thought they’d keep him within their sight
for every moment for the next week, at least.
But apparently, they’ve opted
for a path of denial. I think they’ve agreed, between the two of them, that “we
just won’t speak of this unfortunate incident, not ever again”.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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