It's 1:29 am and I just shaved my legs. Since I never show the deformity of my legs in public, I've gotten into the habit of not shaving unless I know Mike is on his way home from a trip. Lately, to survive the monthly bills, he's taking every one within reason he's offered. The problem that it creates is a disconnect between us with his increasingly erratic schedule. The problem tonight is that I was "asleep" before I was awakened and decided to bathe and shave. I've been gone all day and hadn't heard from him, so I had little notice that he'd be in at 10 pm tonight. I was already in bed propping up my ankles and fooling with the pictures from today, when he got under the covers and tried to go straight to sleep with the kids trolling about the room still. I had in mind that he'd be home tomorrow morning, so I didn't get the clue until I asked when his next departure would be. "Oh, 4 am?! Okay, kids, brush your teeth and get in bed."
I laid myself back to relax from the fullness of the day and fell fast asleep. When he practically jumped out of bed and dressed to leave 4 hours early, all I could gather is that he'd made an advance that in my drowsiness I'd dismissed. I went to the door to see why he hadn't even said goodbye and got back in the bed just in time to hear Madalynn crying. She was bent over in a familiar posture and I knew she had to pee, so I picked her up and she wet me and the floor all the way to the bathroom. That's not happened since she was much younger, so now I'm awake and clean and I have some things to say, since his phone isn't on.
Even though there was already an "event" squeezed into the busyness of the morning, I'm guessing he was back for more and when I didn't reciprocate, he got frustrated. He IS busting his can but I denounce an ugly turn back to presumption. I readily admit, and did to him in an e-mail yesterday, that I feel bad for him since I am rarely to the point yet of taking the initiative. We've come a long way in less than 2 years though. I also feel bad that the road is giving him a beating.
On my own behalf, I remind myself that the more than 4 times he's taken a step to "get out of the truck", I supported him. He wanted a partnership with a friend in a restaurant, so I backed him. "Friend" stepped out of it when booming business was too much for him. Mike wanted to join The Service when it all went belly up and I went with the flow for that too. He enlisted and soon after was hit by another car, requiring knee surgery, making the contracts null and void. The details are a blur now with childbirths and transitions but he got involved in an endeavor with another partner and was soon running 7 trucks. He, as well as his partner, made some horrendous decisions and the end came quickly. Years later, after a bad head on wreck and with 6 children, he enrolled in school (the same one Megan eventually graduated from). We didn't know how we'd survive it but were determined to take the dive. Within weeks, he had the aortic bypass and nerve damage to his hand, and it still plagues him. Needless to say, he never saw his first day of auto tech class, but I know he could just about teach it.
I believe it's time for him to take heart, to make the move out of the truck again. The days and miles and fast food and stress and age and pain have taken their toll. He knows virtually everything there is to know about trucking and with the right timing, the right financial moves, and the right support; it can be done. The economy and new government regulations are our present barriers to overcome and only God knows the direction we should move in.
He just called and says that I'm the presumptuous one and he only left because I was snoring. I'm not convinced but I don't feel as much a need to drive home my next point now. I do think the last day and a half are worthy of description though. I stood to make the case that a lot of inconvenient things have taken place but when put in the right light, they become positives. The putting in "the right light" is pivotal and is the difference between a pessimist and an optimist. I stand to say it might appear that I'm just fluttering about here and there with the kids, enjoying all life has to offer; when in reality, I'm "spinning" the difficulties into lessons.
Friday was so busy that by 1 o'clock I still hadn't washed my face. A lady showed up to say for her friend that our potbellied pig was hanging out at her dairy. I rushed in the house to throw on some jeans and yell at Michael to "come on". After speaking with our 92 year old neighbor at some length, we drove around to search. The fella working said the older man who works there had seen it and screamed in panic for them both to run to the truck because he saw "a wild boar". Now ...she's black, hairy, big, and ugly ...but she wouldn't pass for a wild boar. The image was leg slappin' funny though. We found her way out by a fenceline basking in the sun after her morning root. Michael grabbed a limb and with the help of a "heeler" dog, persuaded her to leave the pasture. He had to direct her almost a mile home and halfway she found a bush to take cover and stood in it growling so long that I decided we'd need a cattle prod. I took off to another neighbors for one and after a while saw Michael following "Rochelle" down the hill and up the driveway. The little excursion ate 3 hours of our afternoon, a slot I had big plans for.
Before long, the phone rang with the little lady saying that she hoped she hadn't been hateful. I laughed and said, "On the contrary, 'I' might've been if someone's pig had hung around my place for 5 days". She and I talked for quite a while and who knows, maybe I have a new friend? What I'm getting at is that I could've moaned and groaned about wasted time, but was it really wasted?
Saturday morning was the beginning of an anticipated day. McKala had softball practice and as I ran out to pick her and her friend up, I took Miranda's coffee cup with me forgetting she was sick. I had also forgotten that I had mounds of clothes strewn out over the car to give away. We finally got everybody uniformed up with their coats, hats, scarves and every seat filled to go back to Ashe County, our mountain home, and watch the Christmas parade. The closer we got the warmer our sentiment was, but we timed it so closely that we had to park a mile away. The big kids started out on the trek as I did everything I could to coerse Madalynn to walk faster but there really was no hope, since the sock boots she had on were sliding to and fro. We missed most of the parade trying to get to a particular vantage point, but we bumped into many different old friends on the way. Standing still, we caught the last few entries and there Macklynn stood with empty pockets, no candy to show for his visit to the parade.
We have a few favorite stores that the kids were ready to raid but first we had to get curds from the cheese factory. I didn't have enough cash for drinks; so about midway through Sallie's Emporium, I got hot with Miranda's fluffy white coat on and I volunteered to walk the mile back and get the car. Macklynn commandeered, taking in the ambience of the place as we went along. As soon as I hit the seat, my stomach was growling. Megan worked at Pizza Hut there for 2 years, so it's we feel at ease in. Apparently so did everyone else that day. I shouldn't have stayed but we had it in our minds to do so and you know how that works. Our waiter was in his own little universe and I finally gave up on stressing after he finally brought us our 2 liters. It was then I knew I would at the very least be late to the gala my very close friend had so graciously invited me to that evening, but the kids were having such a good time playing the jukebox and clowning around with Jaycie, the girl we took, that I just decided to roll with it.
Earlier in the week, I'd called Mrs. Poe, the elderly lady who lived at the bottom of our driveway, and told her we'd be up, so I couldn't go home without seeing her. Because our old house had been empty for almost 4 years since the investor took the bait for our desperate sale, we drive to see it and roam the property every chance we get. What we found was a work truck, then a man meeting us at the door. He was a Costa Rican native with a fantastic sense of humor and was glad to show us the renovation work he'd been hired to do, but walking through the rooms was bittersweet. The kids pointed out things that distinctly proved we were there. In one room, artwork was already being accumulated and it just so happened there was the print like the one I'd sold to help make the last of our house payments. I met the owner as we were leaving and was interested that he did for a living what my brother does and his wife's maiden name is Harper. "He" was interested to hear the stories of the treacherous driveway (and the Wormy Chesnut that lies beneath it).
Alas, our visit with Mrs. Poe began in her small cozy living room. After niceties were met, I had to acknowledge that I knew her son in his 40s was very recently diagnosed with Leukemia. She's 74 and still going strong, cleaning the local bank and minding herself. It's hardly fair that her baby boy could pass before she does. We left in a somber mood but as we passed the fields of Christmas trees and played some of Miranda's favorite songs by Nat King Cole and Bing Crosby, we knew the day was fine despite the setbacks. And THAT is exactly what I meant earlier. Overscheduled, sick, late, broke, uncomfortable, impatient, worried, or sad could describe any given moment of that day. However, content and grateful, pleased and polite, are options we have and will never be "happy" without choosing them. So, I could've said that Saturday stunk; but for every mishap, I was mindful of moments of cheer. Anyway, I might as well smile because if I don't, my jowls will succumb to a little more gravity.
Today is 2 days past the onslaught of this writing and Mike and I have gotten past our bump in the road. He hasn't read this yet, so I may be getting a call when he does. BUT, people respond better when I've told the entire story: good, bad, ugly, and beautiful. There is no richness or texture otherwise. I hope that God finds His intended glory in my ramblings. I hope someone out there can plug in and find a place of kinsmanship with me. The kids will have these chronicles, embarrassing as some may be. I don't know if I have anything to offer the masses, but maybe, just maybe, our story has a niche somewhere. I never have wanted much materially. There's not really anything that matches the freedom of admiring and using the majesty of God's creation. To relieve Mike of life on the road would be ...well, I believe it could "save" his life ...and allow him to relish these years before the children take flight.
I just got a call from the little old neighbor. She wants to know if we want a pumpkin to cook and we surely do, so I'll be readying to stop over :) Moments like these make it all make sense.
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