|
The summer of '98 was a hot one, and I rode my Harley
dresser almost exclusively. Even when it rained I'd head out on it in the
morning. Such is the allure of motorcycling when the mood really hits you.
Now in that same year I met a nice lass named Ann, who
seemed to share my enthusiasm for not only motorcycles, but for life in general.
Discussions were varied, but were always sure to include literature. She said
she ran a day care, and that I should stop by. Somehow I was always hesitant. I
didn't think I would be a good advertisement for such an establishment.
Such things often times change unexpectedly and this
was no exception. I had an extra copy of Robert Service's poetry that I wanted
to give to her and I figured I'd leave it in the front seat of her car. She
would know whom it was from and get a smile out of it. I was leaning into the
car when a voice came forth that stopped me like a thief in the night.
"Hey, you, get in here!"
I looked up to see a complete stranger ordering me
inside. I didn't know who this woman was, but she had a voice that would make a
drill sergeant back up. I obeyed her command.
It turned out she was a worker there and had taken it
upon herself to find a man for Ann. I must have fit the bill.
"Hi," Ann said with a big smile. "Come
on in and look around."
"I don't know. It seems like a long haired biker
might not be the best attraction for your business."
"Nonsense. Anybody that closed minded shouldn't
have children to begin with." And that was that.
The kids loved me, and I quickly came to like them. I
had never spent much time with children before, but before that afternoon was
out I had told them a story and each had a turn sitting on my black and white
Harley-Davidson. Even a little girl still in diapers was fascinated and I had to
lift her up on the seat several times.
My stops were more frequent after that and I was soon
helping around the place. Doing dishes and sweeping up messes seemed to be the
most natural thing in the world.
I'll never forget the first baby I took care of. She
had been fussy all morning and I volunteered to see what I could do. I held her
carefully and softly sang Gin House Blues (what can I say, I'm not up on my
nursery rhymes.) The baby was soon content. Then she threw up on me. I carefully
removed my new suspenders and asked Ann to throw them away.
"Don't be silly. I'll just wash them." I had
honestly thought they were ruined.
After that I was assailed by many more disagreeable
tasks and they came to bother me less. Let me tell you, changing some of those
diapers was a lot worse than dressing out a paunch shot deer. But once
acclimated I took such things in stride.
When Ann's hired hand took some time off I just
naturally filled in, and there wasn't even a hitch in the operation. I even
attended training seminars to make sure I had all the requirements to work
there. I ended up with ten times the credits required by state law.
It was a good summer. And then I got sick. Or more
precisely, I tore my stomach up. By hand I unloaded some yew trees that should
have been handled with a fork truck. It took a couple of days and then I was in
the hospital feeling very much alone.
Ann's visit was a breath of fresh air, and what she
brought with her even more so. In her hand was a card made from two nine by
twelve pieces of craft paper. On it each child has drawn a picture, or signed
his name as best he could, or helped Ann with the saying "Get Well
Soon." The tiny ones traced their hands as I had taught them, and I didn't
need signatures to know which was which.
It was indeed a letter from home, and I perked up
considerably and started to write them a book called "My Trip to the
Hospital." With children, all events are a learning experience.
©2002 StoriesByEmail.com
|
