Sitting on the old wooden chairs in (what passed for) the backyard of their apartment building she and Grace were enjoying the sunshine. They’d spent the early hours this morning puttering around in their little corner flowerbed. A few more weeks of sunshine coaxing the frost out of the ground, and the tulips would be a glorious riot of color! Winter had been long, but Spring was finally in the air!
She watched her old friend, thinking back to how hard it’d been convincing her to move out that upstairs apartment. Weeks of talk during the long dark winter finally convinced her. No more struggling up those steep stairs, carrying groceries up to Grace’s second floor apartment. No more worrying about Grace, up there alone at night. No more Grace living upstairs was quite a change after all these years.
Last summer (when the ambulance had come in the night) after their last walk downtown, she’d made her mind up to convince Grace to move in with her. She’d even used her daughters’ losing that “good job” down south to show Grace how it would help them both. Her daughter had to stop sending that $100.00 check every month back last fall. Sharing the costs of one apartment instead of two, had been the argument that finally got Grace to see it her way.
Her daughter had lost her “good job” when the big company she worked for had “downsized” that summer. “Downsized” she’d thought, why do they call it that? The only ones “downsized” were the workers. In her day, they called it a layoff or a plant closing. But back then, the bosses lost their jobs too.
Grace gently tapped her arm, nodding down the hill. Listening, she heard it too. The deep rumble of a high-powered motor. Their new neighbor, who’d moved into Grace’s old apartment after she’d moved out, was coming home for lunch. He slowed out front, the motor quieting as he rolled into the driveway, coasting to the back of the building. Letting the motor of the noisy machine idle for a moment, he revved it before shutting it off.
They both grinned as the young fellow swung his leg over the seat, dismounting the big black motorcycle. “You remember what that was like?” she asked quietly. Smiling back, Grace nodded in agreement, yes, she remembered.
Both thinking back through the long, misty years. Back to when they were both young women. One long summer years ago, when they’d both known a young war veteran, who rode a motorcycle. Shortly after the “big war”, the only motorcycle in town back then. Not as new or shiny as this one, but it looked a lot like it, and sounded exactly the same!
Both had a summer “thing” for that young man. All summer they’d shared long rides with him. Neither told their parents about it, knowing that would’ve put a quick end to those wonderful afternoons. Secretly cruising the back roads on that smoky, rough riding, wonderfully noisy beast. Then one day he’d left town. Going somewhere, anywhere the sun shines, was all he’d said.
Now they watched as the new neighbor strode towards them, shaking loose that long tangled hair. Surprising them, he stopped near where they were seated. “Mornin’ ladies! Names Harm, pleased to meet you” he said, grinning. Their big open smiles surprised him as both extended old, tanned hands and shook his firmly.
Grace, never the shy one, spoke first. ”Harm...? What kinda name’s that?”. “Well ma’am, it’s short for Harmon..., names Harmon G. Davison”. Not to be left outdone by Grace, she blurted, “What’s the “G” stand for sonny?” Laughing now, he said, “Well now, you’ll understand if I ask ya not to mention it to folks, but my middle initial stands for Godfrey.”
They were quiet for a moment, just smiling in the midday sun. Then Grace spoke again, “Ever consider giving a couple old ladies a ride on that machine of yours?”
Caught short, the young man paused, then he smiled, “I guess I might be able to do that. IF those ladies knew how to ride? And If they had some blue jeans, instead of sun dresses to wear.” Turning away, he excused himself, saying he had to grab some lunch and get back to work.
The following Saturday when he came downstairs from his apartment, he found the two old ladies sitting in the back yard. Both wearing big smiles, flannel shirts..., and brand new dungarees!
I Don’t Know About You..., ever notice how new friends show up in the strangest ways?
Cal Teeple, found at: www.wayneindependent.com/cal Or At: calteeple@gmail.com And often three stools down. He may be ignored, accosted or contacted at all three. He’s sole member of the Observational Cogitation Consortium.
