Date With An Old Man

I sat on my flax futon mattress typing an article on midwifery. I'd dragged my mattress in here the day before, after arriving at my Kentucky best friend's home. She was off doing some sort of chores while I tried to crank out words. 

Her father-in-law peddled around outside fixing bicycles. 

Distracted thoughts scattered the bits of my brain to all the spaces of the world, yet somehow I'd nearly finished a first draft. 

It was time to wrap of that final paragraph. Garrett came in, "You going biking?" 

"Maybe!" 

He can't hear me, but does his best to read my lips. 

"Your bike is just like Mary's." 

(Both of them yellow banana bikes)

"Mary's tube is flat. I need to go get a new one. Want to come with me?"

"Yes!" 

I was actually more confused than enthusiastic. But it was all the same for him. 

He was in a hurry. I didn't even close my laptop, but grabbed my purse and ran out after him, then I texted Mary "Not sure exactly why or where, but I'm going to town with Garrett. Can you make sure my laptop is closed?" 

Once in the car I wondered if I should regret my spontaneous agreeableness. I had plans at noon. How long would this take? 

I couldn't ask him. I could only stress or smile. 

He started telling me about his childhood, and because I could do nothing else I listened. 

"Do you know Jesus?" He suddenly asked me. 

"Yes." I nodded so he wouldn't mistake the shapes my lips made.

"Do you love Him?" 

"Yes, I do." 

He smiled. "I'm glad. I'm always glad when you come visit Mary... I can tell you love Jesus." 

He tells me more about his boyhood and his many siblings and all the times they shouldn't have made it. "That crik always had some rainbow trout though just when we didn't know what we'd do. Not sure how. Wasn't big enough." 

We stopped at a gas station. "Want anything?" 

I said no. I didn't.

But he really wanted to get me something. "Chips? Ale8?" 

"Ale8," I said. Hey, might as well as indulge in Kentucky's finest and let him spoil me. 

We get back and he puts on his seatbelt. "I never like these things," he confessed. "But Ani is always telling me to put them on."

Ani is his little granddaughter. 

"You think Trump gonna run again," he asked.

I shake my head. 

He looks downcast as if I've just cut the last string that held onto his hope. 

"You hear about Candace Owens?" 

He says her name in a way I can't quite understand at first. And then the sounds come together. "Yes." 

"I like Candace Owens," he said.

No judgement from me. Afterall, I can only listen. Besides I have my Alex.

The little bike shop close down a few months away. "Guess we need to go to Moorehead," he said. "Walmart will have tubes."

That's twenty more miles away. 

I cringe. Yeah, I'm gonna be late. But.... I breathe out and smile. 

He tells me more stories and what he think of the world as it is now, and how he thinks there's hope only because of people like Mary and me. 

I do my best to make sense of the sounds, my brain straining at times. And yeah, it's hard not being able to say much myself.

Not that he doesn't let me speak. He tries... but then he stares at me as I try to carefully form my words and raise my voice. Duriny those moments he swerves violently and doesn't really catch my meaning anyway.

That's alright. I'd rather listen. 

Hmm. What if this were a course in some etiquette school: how to listen to a man. Pretend he's deaf and can't hear you anyway. Ha. Seriously, maybe gals can learn to listen to men by hanging out in the cab with a deaf man for a morning. 

We make it to Walmart. He finds his bike tubes. I help him read the numbers and we find just what he needs. Also some bike lights for his granddaughters. He laughs as he tells me what the little girls will say. We admire the wicker baskets. 

"Need anything for your bike?" 

I shake my head. And so we are ready. 

There's a red light at the intersection.

"I don't like stopping for lights," he said. And so he turns off before the freeway onto some backroad. 

I'm aghast. 

"Guess this way is longer, but it's prettier."

I want to laugh. The things men--any of us do--to avoid petty inconveniences. 

But this way is prettier... 

"I like driving," he told me. "But my wife doesn't like going places very much. And she doesn't like the scenic routes much." 

My heart goes out to him, and to all the men and wives who've forgotten the wonder of enjoying life together. 

Sometimes we are silent. But surprisingly he talks a lot. And it's all good, even the parts that would ruffle my feathers had anyone else said what he said... throughout it all I can see his humility and love for God. 

It makes listening to him easier. 

We're home and he goes off to repair the bikes. He seems happy. I'm glad to have accepted his offer to accompany him to town. 

As I jump into my car to speed to my engagement, I pray, "Thank you for causing me to say yes. Let me never say no when I should say yes."

And now those words I so desperately needed flood into my brain. The article will be fine, too.