I was on the way to town Thursday when Farmer H sent me a text. He has a magical way of doing that. Contacting me when I'm in the worst possible situation to deal with him. Texting when I'm driving, and can't put on my glasses to read my phone. Calling when I'm halfway down the 13 steps to my dark basement lair, and don't have a landing or a hand free to answer.
I'd already passed a couple of places suitable for pulling over to glasses-up and check the phone. A cursory glance was all I managed, squinting, to determine Farmer H's identity. Just before the county blacktop road stops at the lettered blacktop highway, there's a short straight stretch where vehicles sometimes sit. Usually a highway truck, the driver having a lunch break. Or somebody possibly broken down. Hopefully not a trash-dumper. And most-wishedly not a satan-worshipper from back in the early days, when the original bridge still spanned the river, and cat ears and questionable parts were sometimes strewn about.
Since this area was my last stopping place for a while, I pulled over. Left T-Hoe in gear, put on my glasses, and was just sliding my phone on when a white car turned in. It pulled up beside me, facing the other way. A woman was driving. I put my window down. Because we're trusting like that.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes. My husband just sent me a text. You know how that goes!"
"Okay."
"Thanks for stopping to check on me, though."
It was actually our next-door neighbor, who we don't really see much, next-door being across a barbed wire fence and a field. Once she put the window down, I recognized her. She's Copper Jack's human mommy.
Good neighbors are hard to find, unless they lived there when you moved in.
What are the odds of her being right there right then? If you had chosen to not stop, would she have still been there at that same time? Passing you? We'll never know. Nice of her to check on you though.
ReplyDeleteRiver,
ReplyDeleteYou never know. Our brief interaction might have kept one of us from a collision, or hitting a deer...