Halfway there on 75, we experienced a flat tire. A big rig pulled up behind us and changed it. Sitting on the side of the road I was thankful we had a cellphone in case we needed it. It reminded me of another time riding back with my mother from Kentucky. Our old car broke down around the same stretch of nowhere, and I watched my mother walk down the interstate. I was twelve, and I laid in the car waiting for hours. Night came and I thought of walking to find her. A big rig driver brought my mother back that night and fixed our car. While I don't like riding beside those things, I know that there's always going to be that random truck driver that'll change your tire or a belt on your engine. I'm off the subject?
So I spent my weekend half driving, half in a hospital room. I made small talk while the old man berated me, telling me that my husband should leave me, that I was biding my time, and each phrase begat one worse. I just sat, forced to listen. I knew it was one day. One day to be nice. So I talked about my garden. And so he shouted and told me how I was making excuses. The deer had eaten our little garden to the ground. Even a couple tomato plants had been topped. "NO SUCH THING!" he shouted. "Deer KNOW TOMATO PLANTS ARE TOXIC! EXCUSES EXCUSES!" he raised his arms up like great wings and flapped his hands in unison, "EXCUSES EXCUSES! EXCUSES EXCUSES!"
And though I'd seen hoofprints in my raises garden beds, and watched the herd pass through my drive each morning, I sat. One day to be nice. but really I was sad.
And I listened as he shouted at my mother on our mothers day, and I watched my daughters faces and watched the clock and I counted the hours. And about midnight I pulled into my drive, thankful. ...emotionally drained. & I never know when i'll make that trip again.
I internally wonder about it all and want to lay in the moss til the me is safe from its cellular recession and my spirit eases out of my stomach and reaches my outer pores again. And then an inch or more beyond that even.