The Pony only had one day off this week, which is Thursday. On Wednesday around 3:00, he sent me a text:
"Off early! It's now wine-o-clock."
I think that's because on the eve of his last day off, I sent him a text asking if it was WINE:30 yet. Anyhoo... I was in town, and didn't continue correspondence, other than to reply: "Enjoy!"
By the time I got home and put away my groceries and bandied a few words with Farmer H, who was operating on Poolio... it was 4:45. I figured The Pony would be in a receptive mood by this time.
"Are you in your cups--I mean BOTTLE?"
"Yepppp"
"Do you have time for a 5-minute phone call?"
"OK."
So I called.
"You can end the call whenever you feel like it. I tend to go over five minutes."
We chatted about Pony's NEXT day off, which isn't until next Friday. And about his new gravel driveway behind Pony House, which he had not yet inspected, Farmer H having just spread it out that very afternoon, and Pony using the front entrance. I offered some more of Farmer H's auction candy when I stop by on Thursday to deliver some scratchers, and pick up the house payment.
By now, 20 minutes had passed. I started to wind up the call.
"I really miss talking to you every day. Dad is not all that entertaining."
"I understand what you mean."
"Not saying anything bad. He's just not interesting. Though he DID fall down over by the BARn yesterday, unloading the lawnmower that he used to mow your yard."
"OH NO! Was he hurt?"
"No. At least I didn't see any marks on him. He just said it's terrible to get old."
"Tell him to take it slower now. I just want you to know that I love you both very much."
"Aw. I love you too! And I'm sure Dad does as well. Or he wouldn't have spent all that time working on your house."
"He really did a good job on my house. Everything is just right."
"I'll be sure to let him know that."
Because, you know, The Pony is a creature of few words. And he's never come right out and told Farmer H that he likes what he's done with Pony House.
Farmer H was touched. And he wasn't even drinking wine.
3 comments:
From a son, those few words is the equivalent of a page-long, over-the-top monologue. Too bad it wasn't a text... you could have framed it.
(FYI: Each grunt or shoulder shrug from a son equals a paragraph of words.)
What a lovely conversation! And to hear that he loves you both is an extra bonus.
Sioux,
I KNOW! Maybe I'll just text The Pony next time he gets all wined-up! Then I'll have a physical record.
***
River,
It was quite sweet, and brought a tear to my eye and a lump to my throat.
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