Having never reached an age of wisdom and peace about my age, I find that the memories have more impact on my soul,when written in story form. Sometimes reaching way back in my memory sack, I have to stretch and squeeze it, so it comes back in the same manor that it occurred.
Now, stretching is good for the story too, it makes it go a little further, like milk added to coffee, simply making sure the essence stays the same. However, some stories are too good to add anything at all.
Gazing from my window today, since the temperature is too low for me to browse among the tuffs of ice along the walk, I see the sun shining on the windshield of the truck, and it reminds me of the day....
My husband was working on a stretch of fence, mending the places that had come loose. I was driving the truck along with all the supplies, always the good helper, and listening to music on the radio. All I had to do was inch forward every few minutes and he could reach in the back and get what he needed. It worked quite well..until I turned the volume up on the radio. As I inched forward in my own little world, not really paying attention, I had hooked him on the hitch!
Somehow, when he bent over to pick up something he had dropped, his sweatshirt had hooked itself over the hitch.
Of course I pulled forward just as this happened and pulled it tight, so tight he couldn't get it loose. He was butt down on the driveway, riding along with me listening to a really loud song, and I'm sure a good song too. This was my only recourse to avoid boredom, listening to the music, so I truly should be forgiven. Now, as I slowed down he tried to get his feet under him again, so he could get himself aloose. But no, I pulled off again paying no attention to the fact that he was no where in sight, and dragged him behind me again. Now, not to sound too stupid, I was only going about a mile an hour. Just fast enough that this old man couldn't get his feet under him, his knees are shot and they wouldn't give him the push he needed to get to his feet so I could see him. Not that I was looking, there in my own little world.
Finally I realized I couldn't find him in any of the mirrors, so I changed the position of the mirror on the drivers side and then the other, still going along. When I found that he was nowhere in sight, I actually stopped the truck and got out. I heard a noise and then a loud cussing sound. Suddenly he stood up behind the truck, covered in dust, from head to toe. Now, happy little person that I am, I started laughing, he looked like he had been swimming on the driveway. He stood still with his hands on his hips and looked at me, eyes glaring. Then he began to shout something at me, I have no idea what the actual words were, because he was so upset they just garbled up in his mouth with the dust. I of course, still don't know what happened, and can't ask, because I am laughing so hard tears are running down my face and I am bent over, unable to talk.
He finally motions for me to come closer, uh..not so sure about that, I inch close enough to see what he was pointing at. Hanging on the hitch was a piece of his sweatshirt that he had finally been able to tear away from the gluelike piece of equipment, to get away. He explained in the loudest tones I have ever heard, what happened, and wanted to know why I didn't stop. Why??!!!
I looked at him in all innocence and replied, "I didn't know you were hooked."
He looked at me as though peering through the giant hole in my head, and asked, where did you think I had gone? Still in my innocence, I could do nothing but say, I told you start keeping your shoulders straight and stand up tall so I could see you!
Getting back to the house he sheds every piece of clothing on the sidewalk outside and throws them at me, covering me in the dust, he beings to laugh and says, how do you like me now?!
Yes, once again we have joked ourselves into laughing at the situation, and so, such is a day on the farm with Carole and Benton.
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