Isn't it weird how fast time flies when you're locked away at home. I've found myself walking back and forth between small chores I've ignored for months. I clean cluttered cabinets and drawers, sort through back issues of magazines and then find myself on the back deck where I sweep away the catkins and leaves that fall like rain at this time of year.
Afterwards, a chair speaks to me and I sit and watch, and breath, and smell, and listen. Squirrels tease me as they use my privacy fence as a boardwalk. They know full well it's their breeding season and I shall not shoot. Over the river an Osprey circles and drops for a fish and uses one of our two tall pines to land and eat his catch. It's warm out. The sun feels good.
Back inside I finally take the time to change the dead batteries of my handgun vault. They've been dead for two months and I was reduced to the use of my key. The batteries are a royal pain to change. It requires me to first unload the contents. Then take the vault and flip it upside down and pull back the foam lining and remove the battery tray. Simple. It took me almost an hour. Most of the hour was taken with finding my instruction booklet. I found it atop my bedroom gun safe...if it had been a snake....
Then, reprogram the keypad. Almost chunked it through the French doors. I told myself to have patience. It works, now.
I took a slow walk up our street this afternoon. I have this funny or quirky habit of noting all the citrus and other fruit trees in my neighborhood. Never know when this bit of intelligence will come in handy. I take note of other items too, but that's neither here nor there...anyhow, most of my neighbors fruit falls and rots. It kinda ticks me off. I know of a certain fellow that would put it to good use. Many times I come close to walking up and tapping gently on their doors to seek permission to take away their fallen fruits. One day perhaps. Think of all the poor Canadians that suffer for the lack of vitamin 'C.'
My son and daughter-in-law came over last evening with our grandchildren.
Little Bit eased her way into the family room, and without a word, slowly walked over and gently climbed into my lap and placed her head on my shoulder. I didn't say a word, just reached down and placed a kiss on her hair. She shuffled, tucked her arms under mine and cried.
It was a silent soothing display of tears. I held her and continued to place kisses. Not shamed to admit she had me in tears too. Then the others walked in and it seemed awkward for me. I tried to hide my face, man stuff you know. It didn't work. Nana just had to ask what was wrong. Little Bit just shook her head and dug in deeper. They left us alone, finally.
I said, "Honey, it's okay."
She shuffled again, then raised her face to mine and I wiped her runny nose and tried to dry her tears. Then, "Papa, why do you want to go to Heaven?" I waited a few seconds, gathering my thoughts.
"Sweetheart, Papa isn't going to Heaven. I plan to stay here as long as I can, I promise. I want to walk you down the isle some day. I know you don't know what I mean, but it's important to me."
"You promised me last time you wouldn't go to Heaven but you broke your promise and went back to the hospital and Daddy and Mom said you might go to Heaven and they took me to your room and you were sick again. You promised, Papa."
About then I wanted to say a few words to my son. "Honey, Papa can't control when and where and how I get sick. It just happens. I promised I would not go to Heaven, and I didn't, did I?'
"No. But you tried."
"Honey, Papa didn't try. Really, I didn't. I just became sick. I'm back now and I'm holding you and next Monday Papa promises to drive you to school, no matter what anyone says, I'll be there."
"Really?"
"Yes. And, I'll see you again tomorrow night. Do we have a deal?"
She smiled.
I always keep my promises.
Stephen
