|Daddy in his garden patch|
He starts by telling me a cousin I haven't seen in 50 years died yesterday, Pedro who was about the age of my older brother, Gary. Pedro who was a lot like Gary, and died of the same thing Gary did this past February.
As Daddy put it, they were both 'wild as a briar patch hare'. Ten years from now I'm going to want to remember all those sayings Daddy had, so today I grab a pad of paper and jot it down. And I smile for maybe the first time today.
|Baking Snickerdoodles with Daddy in his little kitchen. Please ignore bra rolls...|
We talk a bit, then he says, "Beverly, I have a problem." It's been one of those mornings when I can feel the tears just behind the surface, pressing to get out, but if they start they might not stop, so I hold onto them. Frustrations with my mother, whose world is spinning out of control faster every day, have started my morning off tough. So I'm not at all sure I can handle hearing about yet another problem, especially if someone is counting on me to fix it.
'Okay, what's wrong?' I ask, not really wanting to hear.
'Well, I've got gallons of beets sitting here in my kitchen and I can't find whole allspice. I've been to Walmart, and the spice store here in town, and nobody has any. I need the whole allspice to can my beets, and they're already picked, so I wondered if you can get them on that Amazon?'
Oh Daddy! Thank you, thank you, thank you that at 90 years old your only pressing problem is whole allspice. And that you are clear enough to remember Amazon, even though you don't own a computer.
And thank you, whoever invented Amazon, that for $9.62 I was able to ship him a pound of whole allspice, scheduled to be delivered in two days to the edge of Kansas.
And yes, Daddy, you can pay me back in a jar of beets. That would be absolutely perfect.