It Told Me Something
No matter what you think your schedule holds for you . . . it may be subject to change. Our weekend was meant to be quiet on Stauffer Avenue and wait out the heat.
Thursday morning Dennis got a phone call from grandson Ryan. His pickup wasn’t getting out of the shop as quickly as they had promised. Ryan was due to leave for Silver Bay Thursday after work to pick up his daughter Addison. Addison had been visiting Dennis’ daughter since the day school let out in St. James. Hmm. Dennis being separated from the little red pickup . . . he stepped up and agreed, Ryan could use the pickup and spend the weekend with family.
Dennis still had the Ford Galaxie convertible to get out of the back garage and do his tooling around town. Ole cowboys need to have that freedom of checking out the favorite places . . . and Dennis does it well.
Thursday night we had just bid Ryan a safe trip with the little red pickup when Dennis’ cell phone rang. Son, Kenny, who trucks out of Arizona had gotten a load to Rochester, MN. He would be at our home Friday morning for the weekend . . . could he use a vehicle to visit old friends. Dennis knew he wouldn’t let the Lincoln MKX out of the garage with not knowing where it would be going, so the convertible was the choice.
The garages looked forsaken. Even the three cats roamed around wondering if we were moving.
I could tell by Friday evening that there was something about Dennis. Dennis is usually ready for conversation about what the RFD channel had on or something that reminded him of his farming days. Dennis was getting quiet. By Saturday I finally ask him if he would head up to the grocery store for me and pick up some milk and bread. Did I need it? No. Driving the MKX was just not Dennis’ idea of tooling around town with it. Dennis did run the errand and he was gone for a bit but in the garage the car went. It didn’t come out of the garage all day Sunday.
Sunday evening supper didn’t appeal to Dennis, he thought he might have the flu as he felt blah. I knew where the blahs had come from. His routine . . . his schedules . . . his vehicles were not where they were supposed to be and accessible for him. I really felt helpless and bad for Dennis. It was before 10 o’clock when Dennis went to bed. He wasn’t feeling too perky.
I am a light sleeper and at 6:15 this morning. There was noise outside in the driveway. First the convertible pulled in and right behind it was the little red pickup. Brett collected the drivers and off they went back to Brett’s. Dennis vehicles had all collected at nephew Brett’s late Sunday night and Brett had grilled out for all the fellows.
When Dennis got up at 7:30 he couldn’t help but see the driveway as it is right next to the bedroom window. Oh my gosh! No time for his usual plaid PJs that he wears out to the patio porch to start the day. Dennis was dressed with his work shoes on . . . and he was moving. I know he barely had put his coffee cup on the table in the patio porch and spent no time at all getting the pickup garage door open and in went that little red pickup. With the garage door opener he had the garage in the east portion of the acre open ready to receive the convertible. There was one happy cowboy.
There is a moral to this story. We all want to help. We all want to give. We want to feel good about the helping and giving. Dennis gave until it hurt. As God is my witness, Dennis has and had no clue as to what had brought on his doldrums. His life had been different for the weekend and it had had an affect on him. This told me that we are so vulnerable when our beloved life and surroundings change. I sure was happy to see the ole Dennis back and I did not fault him for mowing a portion of the acre in this heat. He was feeling good and ready to tackle the day.