Best Friend

A Best Friend

by
B.D. Adams ©2015          

I have had many good friends through my life. There are a few that I still stay in touch with. However, the human factor aside, some of my furry or feathered, four-legged or two-winged ones, in my life, have been my best friends.

M

y brother and I were born in Ft. Worth, Texas. I was the elder by four years. In Ft. Worth, I had asked for a dog. However, my parents voted that down. Their reason was because I was too young to take on that responsibility, so they said.

            When I was 5 years-old, my father had finished his college and training in Physical Therapy. I learned later that he was very good at his chosen profession and began to go up his ladder of progress. We – my father, mother, me and baby brother -- moved to a town smaller than Ft. Worth in the middle of Texas. Gonzales TX – near San Antonio. This was 1955. The move, per se, didn’t upset me. When you are young, as I was, all I saw was a new adventure.
           In Gonzales, the house we moved into was not bad. Large enough for the four of us, but had a very, dinky backyard, if it could really be call a backyard. We could go out the backdoor, down a few steps, to the grassy, short depth that measured across the back of the house. There was a nice clothesline for laundry, which made my mother so happy. Wide enough for that stuff, but nowhere deep enough for a swing-set or for a dog. So again, a dog was out of the question. (Oh, the subject of a cat was never broached.)
          We had friends – my parents and me. My young brother was still in diapers. We went boating because we had a boat. Boating and fishing was my father’s passion. I just wanted a dog. A pet.
          I had captured a few Horned Toads to take care of, but I would let them go. I learned they did not make good pets and I didn’t want to be cruel to them. I had a few goldfish, but that definitely didn’t fill the bill. With them, you learn early about death. Their lifespan was always short.
           After a few years in Gonzales, a mysterious event took place. It was the summer of 1958. I was 8 years-old. I was playing in the carport attached to the house. After a while, I heard strange sounds coming from the port’s roof. I actually heard what I could call chicken clucks!
            I went more out on the driveway to look on the roof. Lo and behold, there was a big, white chicken on the carport’s roof. I was amazed! How did she get up there? How could I get her down?
 

On-Line Photo -- photographer Unknown

 

           Excitedly, I called to my mother. She came out to see what I was yammering about. When she saw the chicken, all she said was, “My Lord.” That’s when I believed the chicken was a gift from above. I looked to the sky and silently thanked the Lord.

            Our house was by a major thoroughfare where flatbed trucks stacked with cage on cage of chickens would go by. This escaped chicken must have flapped its way to our roof.
            Mother called Mr. Rucker ¹, a neighbor man, to come over. When he climbed to the roof, the white bird didn’t try to get away. Mr. Rucker brought her down gently and handed her to me, but I asked him to hold on to her for a moment. I knew my mother wouldn’t want her in the house, so I went inside to get a length of heavy twine we had in a kitchen drawer. I loosely tied the twine around the chicken’s leg. She didn’t seem to mind her tether. She just began to do chicken things – scratched and pecked – in the front yard.
            Mr. Rucker asked, “Are you going to have’er for supper?”
            I was appalled in my child-like way and informed, “No! She picked my roof. She’ll be my friend!” The man laughed and moseyed away.
            My mother left me with my new friend, however, she actually brought out a small, old bowl with water. The chicken was thirsty. I had been around chickens because my parents were good friends with Mr. & Mrs. Hammonds ², cattle ranchers near Gonzales. They had taught me a bit about farm animals, like chickens.
           With my father’s help that evening, after supper of pork chops, we went to the Hardware Store to buy chicken wire and other items. We built her a chicken coop in one corner of our very small backyard, away from my mother’s clothesline.
            I named her Henrietta. She seemed to like it. I thought that name was appropriate.
            I cleaned her coop and fed her lovingly. Sometimes, she would peck the grain out of my hand. Small brain-pan, but she seemed to like me. She didn’t lay eggs, but she would go for walks with me. What a silly sight that had to be – a little girl taking a chicken for walks!
            A few times, the kids I would play with teased me about Henrietta.
           One boy said to me, “It’s just a stupid chicken. Why’s it better than us?”
           “Because she was smart enough to choose my roof and not yours.” That shut him up.
            Well, a year later, my father got a better Physical Therapy position in a hospital in a different town. Actually, more like a small city in the southern, coastal area of Texas. Victoria, TX, population a little over 50,000, about 200 miles away. I couldn’t have Henrietta in the new city limits, so I gave her to the folks with the ranch and made them swear that they wouldn’t eat her.
            A few months later after the move, I got a letter from Mrs. Hammonds. The first part of her letter said she hoped I was getting along in my new school, hoped I was making new friends. Then, she told me about Henrietta. She said my hen was not very social with the other chickens and would not let the roosters get near to her. However, after a while, she warmed up to the others and seemed to fit right in. They had banded her leg so there would be no confusion that this hen was not for slaughter. I was so glad to know that piece of information.
            My dear friend, Henrietta, died a little more than a year later after that letter was received. To this day, I still think of Henrietta Hen.
            With the new home, there was a beautiful, large fenced-in backyard. More than enough to have a dog. A year after moving to Victoria, I finally got my dog.
            A new story for another time.

¹ Mr. Rucker – Fictitious name, real person

²  Mr. & Mrs. Hammonds – Fictitious name, real people

What Do I Want For Christmas?

What Do I Want For Christmas?

by

B.D. Adams

©2013

            As I have gotten older, I really do not think about what I want for Christmas. After all, this is a season more for children. What use do I have for a Furby doll?!

            When I was very young, my parents and Santa gave me dolls (got a Chatty Cathy once), dress-up costumes, coloring books with new boxes of crayons and various other toys. The older I got the gifts were oil paints (to expand my artistic ability), nice clothes for school and books of all sorts of subjects. I loved the Curious George and Babar books as a child. However, my main interests, at the pre-teen level, were fishing with my dad and going to zoos. Learning about animals, birds included, was my thrill! I was so happy when I received my first dog to love!

            I really hope my son will take my Grandson to the zoo in Los Angeles to see the animals of the earth! I believe my paternal, British grandmother was the instigator for my love for animals. A great teacher, she was.

            Every Christmas season conjures up many memories for most Americans. For most of us, it is family and the passels of friends you cannot bear to ignore! For others, it is a quiet time more for reminiscing about a lost loved one and what can be hoped for the coming future.

            Daniel and I are transplants to New Hampshire and we have lost friend and family while here, but we love the Christmas time. We decorate the inside of our home, as well as the outside, to make tribute to memories and remain positive! The thoughts of what we learned from those who have passed are more important than the actual lost!

Soon, many families will make contact with their family members that live away, as we will. We will spend phone visits with Daniel’s son and family in northern California, and we’ll spend video visits with my son and his family in southern California. It is good to encourage even the high-tech methods to stay in touch!

            Of course, we would prefer to have everyone here in New Hampshire, but this is the reality of our times. If I could hope for one present, it would be to have both our families in New Hampshire for Christmas!! That would be so nice!

In any event, I do recall, from a long time ago, that one cousin said he planned to open a bar in the Florida Keys or in the Virgin Islands. Hmmmm ... maybe I should look him up. I’ve always wanted to visit those places. 

All I want for Christmas is to wish everyone a

Merry Christmas and a bodacious New Year for 2014!!!

Choices - Part 2 -- New Twang for the Heart

  

Daniel, Brandy and Sasha

          Dear Reader: Here is the second part to “Choices!” This is how Daniel and I met and became involved in New Hampshire. It is amazing, how two people travel from separate distances, meet in a common area, and then create a life together. I hope you enjoy this story!

Choices

by

B.D. Adams ©

Part 2 – New Twang for the Heart

            Where was I? Oh, yes ... 2002, I had just pulled into Becky’s driveway in Madbury, New Hampshire, after driving a two day trip from Columbus, Ohio. Becky and I were so happy that I made it to New Hampshire with no horrific occurrences on the road ... other than the mayhem of driving through New York City, The Bronx.

            Since the stroke, I knew I should not live alone again. That was a main reason I took Becky up on her invitation to move in with her. I was so glad she had the room for all my stuff, which included my little parakeets, George and Gracie. With their whistles and squawks, Becky got used to this new addition to her household, as well!

            All in all, this relocation was a blessing! I found a doctor who got me into all my continuing therapies. Madbury was in connection with Dover, NH ... sort of like a small metropolis area.

As it became more springtime and summer, I began to explore, acclimate myself, to my new surroundings. The 17 miles of ocean front were so pleasing, along with the rise of more miles of the White Mountains with all the lakes. I went on several jaunts around the State and was invigorated with my new surroundings! As it was for 2002, the climate was warmer than normal. I loved it!

            However, with my exploring, I looked for other, different stimuli. The Social Security Disability I received kept me afloat, but I so wanted to work ... even part-time. I did get a job at a camera store in Rochester, NH, (it closed a few years ago) not far from Becky’s home. A much smaller venue than the store in Columbus, but it was in photography, for which I was happy. Unfortunately, those nasty gremlins, as in Ohio, still harangued. However, none of these people knew me, so I just rolled with the punches.

            I enjoyed Becky and Mark’s (her long-term boyfriend) company, but I felt I should look for a fellow with whom I might be able to relate! Perhaps, it might be someone able to share this new way of life with me, be they an immigrant to NH (as I), or a native. At the same time, though, I debated if I really wanted to be tethered to a guy ever again. My ex-husband left his gremlins all over the place, which followed me to this location. I wanted to be cautious!

            Becky, with her caring, knew I looked at one of the “match” websites and knew that I had

“talked” with a couple of fellows. I even had had a couple of “dates,” but nothing panned out.

She wanted to encourage my “searches,” be supportive.

            It was now winter, just after the holidays, and there was already snow a few feet high. I was still working, but didn’t complain about the weather. As a former “Buckeye,” I was not scared of snow, but I just decided to hunker down for the winter with no further thoughts of finding a “friend” until spring. I had my VHS movies and the emails from friends for entertainment!

            One calm, uneventful evening, after dinner, I settled in to watch TV, Jeopardy!, in the living room. I sat covered with the afghan my aunt had made years ago in what had become my rocking chair. Becky was at her computer in her little “office.”

            The show was nearly over and Becky came into the living room to watch the Final Jeopardy ... she actually got the Final correct! I was impressed ... I didn’t get it correct. How sad for moi. The credits rolled at the end.

            “You doin’ anything real important now?” she asked, as a-matter-of-fact.

            “Nope ... what’s up?” I asked. I hoped whatever she wanted wouldn’t take me from the afghan because I was so nice and cozy.

            “I’d like for you to look at something on the computer,” she calmly said.

            “Awww, Becky ... is it really important?” I slightly protested. I put my arms under the afghan.

            She grinned nicely and said, “No ... I just want to show you someone.”

            “Someone?” I queried. She had sort of become my personal “match-maker.”

            “Just look at this guy. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to,” she specified.

            Well, I thought, ‘Look at the guy. What’s the harm?’

            We went into her office; she sat at the monitor and clicked-up a photo.

            My first impression was ‘what a great beard!’ OK ... slender, nice blue eyes, his eyes smiled as did his lips. Hmmmm ... I mused.

            “Well, what do you think? You haven’t puked, so he can’t be that bad,” Becky teased with a chuckle. “His name is Dan and he works and lives in W. Lebanon, Maine ... about ten miles from Rochester. He’s a carpenter and does construction work, currently for a photography studio in that area.” She stopped to give me a moment to digest what she said.

            I grimaced a little bit at her and said calmly, “Not bad ... sounds interesting. But, isn’t he one of yours?” I had to find out why she was being so gracious. She and Mark had been together for quite a while, but she always kept her eyes opened for someone “new.”

            “Not really. He’s a real nice guy ... too short for me, though.” This was one of her altruisms. She stood almost 5’10”. When she wore heels, she towered over me and anyone else under 5’9”. “I’ve told him all about you ... from Ohio, a photographer – recently divorced. He is interested!”

            Well, I decided nothing ventured, nothing gained! Because she didn’t mention if she told him anything about my physical disability, I figured she left that to me to handle. I told her to give him my email address. I figured when he saw me that would be the end of that relationship ... short that it would be.

            (My brain’s disability had gained much progress. My physical disabilities, however, still screamed that, “This woman is disabled!” Not able to hide something that is open to the world to see!)

            He didn’t email to me until the next day. I got it when I came home from the camera store.

            His email was comfortably long. He seemed to know something of photography, but he’d like to learn more from me; really into vintage cars, into sports on TV ... mostly football (a Patriot’s fan) and NASCAR. He was married and divorced twice ... had no contact with either ex-wife.

            I became more interested in this new person. I kept his photo handy, as I emailed back to him.

Dan – Thank you for your email. I really liked the photo Becky showed me (I hope you like my photo) and I liked your email. We seem to have a few things in common – football and car racing. Yes, I like NASCAR. J Hope you’re a Rusty-fan¹! Photography has been my life’s blood, but not now. I work in a camera store, just don’t shoot professionally any more. I would be happy to help you with your photo endeavors. Hope to hear from you again soon.

Take care – Brandy

            Well, we went back and forth for a couple of days with other emails, and then we spoke on the phone. I liked the timber of his voice. Not a bass ... maybe a baritone. We decided to meet ... with my disability and all. He called me to set the “date” for Friday ... this was Wednesday.

            I was not all that up on locations, even in Rochester, so Dan chose “Restaurant 103” ... right on Main St. I was glad of this selection ... I knew it, but had never been inside. It was not known as a fancy place, but it was known as quite nice eatery. It was a renovated old house made into a restaurant; old, dark brick with cursive-styled letters and numbers in a lighter brown color. Dan described the menu as regular New England fare, nothing fancy. His favorite dish in any restaurant was prime rib. Kind of “safe.” I just hoped the menu carried other selections that I’d like.

            “Well, I know how you look, but do you want to meet in the restaurant or in the parking lot?” I inquired. I intended to drive to the restaurant because I wanted to be safe/cautious, better to meet on equal turf until ... well, until.

            “Let’s meet in the parking lot. Not very romantic, but there is really no waiting area ... more like a small alcove for coats,” Dan explained. The lot was across the street from the restaurant, a public lot. Not too bad, well lighted.

This told me he had been to this restaurant a few times. I wondered if we’d run into any of his other “dates” to this venue. Wasn’t sure how gracious I’d be about that. (Hey, I’m human.)

            “OK ... well, I drive a very blue 1988 Pontiac Sunbird. Old, but it got me to New Hampshire,” I offered, and then asked, “What car do you have.”

            Very calmly, no fan-fare, he just said, “A silverish Lincoln Town Car. A light color.”

            “A Town Car,” I calmly echoed. Could this guy have money? Wasn’t sure if I liked that idea or not.

            “Don’t worry,” Dan read my mind, “It’s just transportation, an old one, but not as old as your Sunbird. I got it when I first moved here.”

            He had told me that he moved here from California ... a transplant like me ... so I could believe the car. He had been in Maine a little longer than me. But, a Lincoln Town Car?! That would be one of our subjects at the dining table.

            Well, all was set for Friday evening, 6:00pm. I worked only a few hours on Fridays, and he could set his hours, so all was confirmed. I was so nervous!

            That night, as I was in bed with my book, an antiquated memory crept into my thoughts. I remembered a teenage boy, two years older than me (already graduated from high school), who wanted to impress me by taking me to one of the nicest restaurants in Ft. Worth, TX. (Yes, Readers ... I’m from Texas!) He succeeded. I was smitten by this young man of good taste! In all honesty, however, this memory was a tainted one. He dumped me six months into the relationship. C’est la vie.

I could only wonder if this date would be only a memory for another time or would it be a new beginning, something new for my love-life.

            Thursday dragged by! When Becky got home from work, she quizzed me on my

wardrobe for the dinner-date. I had laid out a couple of ideas ... she surveyed with me. I didn’t want to dress too ostentatiously, if the car was as he said, merely transportation. However, if he

did have money/position, I didn’t want to dress too commonly, embarrass him. What a dilemma?!

            I decided to just be myself ... nice jeans, heel-less, dark brown leather boots and beige cable-knit sweater with one of my signature silk scarfs, tied loosely around my neck ... coordinated attire, not flashy. Becky approved.

            Friday morning crawled unmercifully! I worked until 1:00pm. I think my boss noticed how often I looked to the wall clock while I helped customers. He never asked anything, though.

            This was a cold winter day with fresh snow from the previous night. As I drove to Becky’s from work, I almost decided to call Dan to cancel the date. To date or not to date, that was the question. On the phone, he sounded very nice. I just kept his voice in mind. I had to do this date. I thought about this as an exercise for Speech Therapy. Good thoughts, only good thoughts!

            I ate a bit of lunch when I got home ... hungry, but didn’t want to spoil my dinner. I wouldn’t wait for Becky to come home from work to help me with anything. She enjoyed TGIF with co-workers and friends! Fridays were like that for her.

            I went on her computer to check my emails ... he might cancel. No, he didn’t ... his email said he was looking forward to our dinner date. The combination of relief and nerves churned my stomach. I had told my one good friend in Columbus about the date and her email merely said, “Go for it!” She was no help.

            Well, at about four o’clock, I dressed. I even put a little more make-up. I used to apply make-up for the women I photographed. Becky was still not home, so I donned my warm coat and black sock hat to get into my car. It was now a little after 5:00pm. I headed to Rochester.

            Because of the season, it was already dark. I always drove with caution, but in the dark, it was a little more so.

            Once I was in the town-proper, there was more illumination, much brighter. As I turned onto Main Street, I hoped there would be parking available in this public lot. Well, I would find out real soon ... I was about to turn into the lot.

            Uh-oh ... I believed I saw his Town Car already parked! My heart did a bit of thumping! I had forgotten how big those cars were! And, as fate would dictate, there was a spot across the island from him. Oh, boy.

            I pulled into the spot and saw Dan (who I figured was Dan) leave that Lincoln and steadily approach me. I calmly exited my car. He smiled widely, as I smiled and he gave me a hug.

            “Hi,” he said happily with a big grin. His voice was edged with nervousness.

            “Hi,” I echoed with my grin. Why were first meetings so nerve-wrecking?

            Our breath created a fog around our heads. Neither of us attempted to make the next move. He came to me, so I decided it was my move. “It’s rather chili ... let’s go inside,” I strongly suggested.

            He smiled nicely, as he asked, “Can you take my arm or do you need to use your cane?” We had to cross the street to get to the restaurant.

            “I’ll take your arm ... just please don’t sprint across the street,” I explained with a small smile.

            “What? You can’t do a 4-minute mile?” he giggled. He firmly, but calmly, held my arm to guide me across the street.

            His boots made him comfortably taller than me, but everyone was always a little taller than me. This might be the beginning of ... something. I still didn’t want to expect too much.

            During the short walk to the restaurant, I registered what I had seen with this new person. He wore a black, brushed leather bomber jacket, jeans, winter boots and a ball cap. The cap was printed with “Dodge.” I liked Dodge vehicles, but to wear this for a first date? In the

dead of winter? I would have to keep an open mind.

            When we entered the building, the coat hooks were jammed with coats. We opted to take our coats to the table. A waitress greeted us almost immediately and we were seated at a small, two chair table. I draped my coat across the back of my chair and stuffed my sock hat into one of the arms.

            As Dan arranged his jacket on his chair, I noticed that it was decorated with NASCAR Team logos. A Dodge ball cap ... a NASCAR jacket. This kind of bothered me. Was he gung-ho into NASCAR or was his motive meant to impress me. Right now, I was not amused. How sad ... strike one. He did remove his Dodge cap, so I gave back a half point.

            This was a rather noisy place with three waitresses zooming all over the place. Our waitress dropped off two menus in a polite manner and asked for our drink order. Dan ordered a Corona. I ordered a glass of Merlot.

            “You prefer wine?” Dan inquired, and then he said, “I don’t drink much wine. Maybe you can teach me about wine.”

            “I drink beer ... I like Corona. But, yes ... I prefer wine.” I was pleasant with my honest answer. I decided to change the subject, “You’re originally from Rhode Island?”

            The waitress brought our drinks and asked, “Are you ready to order?”

            I hadn’t opened the menu yet. “Can we have a moment, please?” I asked.

            She jetted off to other patrons. I began to study the menu for what I could order.

It didn’t take me long ... meatloaf was one of my favorites (hoped the seasoning was palpable) because I could cut it with a fork. (not able to use my right hand to cut meat, etc.)

            “That’s correct ... I grew up in Rhode Island. Stationed in California in the ‘80s. Stayed there after I retired from the Air Force in ‘87,” he confirmed then took a sip of his beer. “Moved here last year. And you? You moved here from Ohio?”

            “I’ve lived in many places. I moved here from Ohio, but I was born and raised in Texas,” I reminisced. “A few moves were due to my husbands ... because of military involvement, but my childhood relocations were because of my parents. My father managed to get employment each time to get closer to the Texas Gulf Coast. We originated in northern Texas, nice but he loved salt-water fishing. He doesn’t fish any more ... he has cancer.”

            In the nick-of-time, the waitress came back and took our food orders; medium rare prime rib for Dan and meatloaf for me. Nothing else was said about my father. I was glad.

            “You told me that you once had a 1957 Karman Ghia ... I can’t wait to show you my ’37 Plymouth Sedan,” Dan said with a lot of pride.

            “I look forward to it! I love older cars. Also, I once had a 1968 Austin-Healey 3000 ... nice in the corners,” I said with my pride. “I just go with what is available these days.” I smiled.

            I sipped a bit of my wine ... wanted to relax a bit more. At the present, things were going ... not bad.

            He quaffed a little more of his beer, and then put his attention to somewhere behind me. He made a short hand wave. His eyes followed who he recognized.

            I did not turn to see who was approaching ... I was afraid it was one of those other “dates!”

            “Dan ... nice to see you,” a male voice said. The man stood by the table to address Dan.

            “Hey, Bill,” Dan greeted. They shook hands. They visited briefly with the guy only giving me a nod before he went on.

            I was still not up on how men behaved in New England, but I thought Dan was very rude by not introducing me to his friend/acquaintance. This was a big faux-pas in my mind. Now, he was at strike two, which made the count 1 1/2!!

            I tried to mentally come up with a polite way to let him know that I thought he was rude to me. I mean, if this was a sample of his social make-up, we would not make it to dessert! I was obviously quiet.

            “Uh-oh,” Dan quietly observed. “I did something or said something wrong. I know this

silence.” He had a whipped puppy expression.

            “Both. You ignored me ... you did not introduce me to your friend.” With his acknowledgement, I wasn’t sure if he was sincere or about to lie like a rug!

He gave a labored sigh, as he said, “I’m sorry I was rude, Brandy. I’ve been working too hard and have only been around guys ... a lousy excuse, but I apologize.”

It wasn’t just his words ... his eyes said he was sincere in his apology.

We made it to dessert. New York Cheesecake with strawberry sauce for both of us! Yum!!

Not only did we make it to dessert, but we made it to the XXXVII Super Bowl. I had to apologize to him because I fell asleep during the game. By April, we moved into a small, comfortable cottage in Farmington, NH. We were able to compromise on his dining-out attire and he never ignored me again.

It is now January 2013, by this April, we will have lived together for ten years ... and counting.

“Love is the strength of how much a heart can stand in good times and bad.”  BDA

¹ Rusty Wallace – retired from racing in 2005

Sock-hat and Walking Stick

Sock-hat and Walking Stick

by

B.D. Adams © 2011

            Becky drove her vintage Karmann-Ghia down the country road she had always taken to just ... relax or think. Her new boss had given her more work-load than she needed or wanted. She almost felt his intension was to punish her ... get her to quit!
           “Over my dead body,” she said out loud to the steering wheel. Some co-workers were scheduled to come to her condo this Saturday afternoon to plan strategy ... she wasn’t the only whipping boy (girl)!
           She approached the rugged road she had always mentally debated about checking out ... she decided today was the day. She needed fresh air. The entrance was not all that easily seen, but she parked in the small clearing just off the main road. Even this close to modern reality, she felt that this was a good idea. She would walk for only a few minutes.
           As she ambled along that “road less taken,” Becky breathed deeply ... a cleansing breath. This was a beautiful, crisp autumn afternoon on an overgrown, rutted road ... no pavement, no telephone wires ... only stone fences and large oak trees of orange and yellow colors. She knew this type of road was not what Frost had referred to in his poem, but ... it seemed to fit today.
           No heavy coat for Becky today. She wore her forest green, bulky knit sweater and the blue jeans that fit so well. For this walk, her leather, low-top hiking shoes with thick socks were perfect. The breeze made her short, brown hair dance with the momentary gusts, which thrilled her, for some reason. The autumn leaves skirted the ground with all colors by her steps or by the breeze.
            She had always been active ... walking, canoeing, tennis. She was middle-aged and did what she did out of enjoyment, and not just to keep slender.
           Becky had strolled for several yards and approached a curve in the narrow road. Before she was at the center of the bend, she discerned that someone was coming towards her; a man ... almost dressed like her and used a walking stick. He was comfortably taller than her and appeared to be of a healthy build, as well. The sock-hat he wore allowed some of his blonde hair to peak out. He wore lace-up boots that appeared to have walked many more miles than her shoes. As he came closer, Becky thought she saw him smile a bit. She did not know him.
           Her first impression ... her first fear ... was that he might try to hurt her! There was really no where to run ... no house or other protection! What to do?! Her heart began to beat heavily and fast!
           Becky moved more to the right of the road, where she had been walking. She wanted to give him ... space.
           Before she got even with the man, he sat wearily on the stone fence on his side. While he sat, he let out an exhausted sound, but smiled a very sincere smile. The walking stick rested against him.
           “Good afternoon,” the man greeted. His blue eyes were clear and kind.
           “Good afternoon,” Becky returned and decided that if he was a sex-offender, he was a
new breed.
            “Ahhhhh ... we don’t get these beautiful days often enough in the autumn, do we,” the man suggested, as he breathed in the good air. His voice sounded mature, but with a young lilt.
           “That’s a fact,” Becky returned. She couldn’t help but to smile to this man ... he seemed
to bring it out of her.
           She was able to see down the road ... both ways ... from her vantage point. This made
her feel a little more secure ... there was nobody else.
            Because she was a little tired from her walk, Becky sat on her stone wall across from him. She still felt a bit cautious of this fellow.
            “Do you walk this road often?” Becky inquired.
           The man scratched his chin, as he thought, and then answered, “Not as often as I’d like.”
            Becky frowned a little, as she asked, “Why’s that?”
            “Oh ... politics,” he said with a wink.
            Politics ... Becky thought ... that’s a strange reason!
           “Yes ... it is,” he answered to her.
            With his unusual response, Becky felt cautious again. She asked him, “Do you read
minds?” She was now leery of his motives, but remained seated on the stone wall.
            The man gave out a heart-felt laugh and smiled even more broadly. “Your eyes gave me a clue,” he admitted.
            Becky decided to believe him. She smiled a small embarrassed smile.
            “Where does this road go?” Becky asked.
            The man gave her a curious look, as he asked, “Where do you want it to go?” He was very precise in his question.
            Becky slightly raised her eyebrows, as she asked, “What does that mean?”
            The man looked to her without wanting any further explanation, as he said, “Life is one choice after another ... good or bad. We do what we can to get by, or we exceed! To exceed is the key here.” He added this as an aside, “ ... as with a job ... life or death.”
            “What are you getting at?” Becky inquired. She had become a bit perturbed.
            The man removed his sock-hat and softly laid it on his knee, as he asked, “Becky ... what do you see down that road?” He pointed to his left, the direction he had come.
            She looked to where he pointed ... she saw a dark, nothingness. “Isn’t that the direction you came? Why is it now so dark down that way,” Becky asked a little confused. Then, she realized he had called her by name, she calmly demanded, “How do you know my name?”
            “Yes, it is,” he responded. “You’ll learn soon how I know your name.”
            She looked overhead to determine the time of day. The sky was still bright, but when she looked again down the road ... the road she hadn’t yet traveled ... it was dark!
           “Who are you? What’s your name?” she finally asked.
            He gave her a knowing look ... he knew that she really knew him. All he said was, “Gabe.”
            “Gabe,” Becky echoed. She did already know ... for some reason, she knew.
            “You still need to finish your journey ... if you want,” Gabe instructed to her.
            “If I want ... what’s going on?” Becky asked very confused. She hadn’t yet looked down the road she had come, but now ... she did.
            She saw brightness, with a bit of vignetting around the edges ... like in a photograph. She shaded her eyes to better discern what she saw. There was a car (one she didn’t recog-nize), which had hit a power pole. Several people scurried around to try to help ... someone. A man (she didn’t know) sat on the curb while a policeman stood near, as he took notes.
            She looked to Gabe and asked, “What is this? What does it mean?”
            “Look closer and tell me what you recognize,” Gabe suggested. His smile had waned ... he was now more serious.
            As she squinted, Becky looked again.
            “My God,” she quietly stated. “I live near there ... I go to the little store for things sometimes.” Then, as she really looked at the scene, she felt a tugging at her arm! Someone lay in the street ... near the car she didn’t know ... someone pulled that person’s arm. EMT Techs attended the person.
             The person was a woman, who wore a forest green, bulky knit sweater!!
             “NO!!” Becky screamed, as she brought her hands to her mouth. She watched more as it became apparent that the man on the curb was drunk and the car was his. He had hit Becky!!!
             “Gabe ... am I going to die? Am I already dead? Is that why I don’t feel any pain?” Her tears flowed with her surprise and her feeling of helplessness!
             “Becky ... really feel inside your self. Do you want to die or would you rather continue your journey ... known or unknown?” He watched her intently. “If you go back ... you might die ... but, you could continue with the road you had been traveling.” He motioned to the unknown road, and continued, “This direction ... will be a risk ... not all that familiar. This is an Angel decision that some of us wanted for you! You could touch many other lives before your journey is completed. By yourself, you have seemed to choose the more challenging roads ... you have been one of the few we guide. And ... please do not ask why.” Gabe grinned, but seriously added, “This guidance has to be your decision.”
            This had to be the hardest decision she had ever been asked to make! Should she go with what she had seen ... possibly be already dead? Or, should she risk the unknown?
            “If I choose the dark road, will it go back to before I’m hit ... will I remember meeting you and all that I’ve seen?” Becky looked at Gabe with pleading eyes. Could he help with her decision? Her tears had ended.
            Gabe shook his head and said, “I’ve told you all I can. It’s totally up to you.”
            “Politics ... right,” Becky said. She wasn’t nasty to the Angel, just stated a fact.
            Gabe sighed slightly and nodded his head.
            “Since I’ve been given this choice ... is it really a punishment?”
            Gabe smiled his sincere smile, and confirmed, “No ... not a punishment. I can answer that question.”
            As Becky looked down the road again at the accident ... it seemed that the image became darker. She figured that she should get the lead out and make her decision!
            The road she had been traveling had been going pretty well, except for the new boss. However, if the new road could give her a better direction ... a risk is not always a bad thing. Too bad this wasn’t the Genie with the three wishes ... she smiled to herself.
            She did not want to die yet, which was a possible scenario ... she wanted to live and try to do more with her life, which had always been her motivation ... now or before!
            “Becky,” Gabe called to her, “You need to make a choice.”
            She closed her eyes to get inspiration from the dark. After a moment, a stronger breeze stirred ... as it kicked up dust that kept her eyes closed a little bit longer. When she opened her eyes, Gabe was gone! She looked both ways down the road and everything was as before ... but, no Gabe. She hurried to the wall where he had sat and looked over it. Still ... no Gabe.
            “A day-dream?” Becky wondered to herself. She decided she needed more sleep at night. This incident gave her a slight chill.
            It had to be getting late ... the people would be at her home soon. She high-tailed it back to her car, and then mildly sprinted back to her neighborhood. When she got to the corner store, to pick up a few snacks, a car was parked in front of the store, so she parked across the street ... same side as the store.
           Once she had paid for her purchases, she stood just outside the store to adjust an item in her paper bag, so she remained on the step.
           Instantly, there was a car that careened off the street ... jumped the curb ... toward her!! It was like the driver made a bad right turn!! The car crashed into the power pole ... where she would have been if she hadn’t delayed!!
            Becky stood petrified!! She just stared at the car, as the store owner came out to see
what had happened!
            “Becky ... Becky! Are you all right? Are you hurt?” Stan, the owner, asked frantically. He
took her paper bag and set it on the step by her feet.
            She just stood calmly and said quietly, “I’m fine.”
            “My God ... you must have an Angel!” Stan said nervously, albeit happily.
           There was a lot of commotion ... the police had begun to arrive. As she said, for the twentieth time, that she was fine ... she was not hurt ... she realized this was the day-dream, but different! She wasn’t flat on the sidewalk!
            At that curious moment, Becky glanced across the street to the house at that corner. It was a Tudor-styled house that had a stone fence surrounding it.
           A man sat on the stone fence, who had on worn, laced boots and had a walking stick that leaned against him. His blonde hair peaked out from his sock-hat. The man gave her a sincere smile, and then casually stood with his stick and walked down the other street.

 Choices ... always choices!!