A drizzly day. As T left to go to Lincoln today for a meeting, we both sniffed the air at the same time. "Smells like a spring rain's coming," we both agreed. It did. And now it's dribbling out. Not really raining but enough that I can't get out of the car and sit in the park. Drip. Drip. Drip.
Strangely enough, there is a family seated at the picnic table across the pond. There's a tablecloth on the table and several lawn chairs. It starts to rain a bit harder and, as if on cue, they all get up and begin packing up and heading to their cars.
As a young woman comes by my car, I roll down my window. "Rain spoil your picnic?" She nods. "We try to get together every President's Day. One year, it was nearly ten below, but we still went. Another year, there was a blizzard. But, this year beats all. It's nearly seventy degrees and raining!" She points to her tee shirt. It says: ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN IN NEBRASKA.
I haven't seen the guy in the tan truck. It just figures. I finally make up my mind to do something and he disappears. "He'll be back," T assures me. "He always comes back." I guess we will see. I kind of hope he doesn't come back. Maybe he got a job, found a place to live. That would be nice. Or...maybe he gave up. Went home. I've heard it said that home is the place where they have to take you in.
A guy pulls up next to my car in a black truck. He jumps out with a grey pit bull. I admit that pit bulls scare me. It's their eyes and those bandy legs. They just seem menacing. I have a friend who has a pit bull named Lark. She says her Lark is the most gentle animal on the planet. I believe her. Pit bulls still scare me. I apologize.
This man's pit bull stops directly in front of my car and takes a long, large dump. His human has no plastic baggies and looks me in the eye as if to dare me to offer him one. So, I don't. I do stare right back, though. I make sure he reads my expression. THIS IS NOT COOL, DUDE.
I'm so very sure that he cares what I think.
They take a quick walk around the pond and head back to their truck. I send a wish to the universe that the man steps in his dog's excrement, but he doesn't. Nothing is ever that easy. Karma will come around in another way. I hope.
I watch from the car as two older fisherwomen sit side by side in lawn chairs. They wear rain gear and seem oblivious to the pitter pattering water. And, boy howdy, are they catching fish. One. Two. Three. Four. Nice, big silvery ones. Enough for a Monday night fish fry. My dad used to say that the fish gods reward fishermen who sit in the rain to fish. They must reward fisherwomen, too.
A woman comes to walk her little yorkie. She wears a black raincoat; he wears a white one.
It's going to be a busy two weeks. T is taking time off before she starts her new job on March first. A lot of changes, most of them for the better. But, still my feet drag. Like many people, I am not good with change. I don't like my insurance cards to change, my pharmacy to change. I've always wanted to be the sort of person who embraced change, but I've always been too attached to my comfort zones. I like waking up to my vanilla bean yogurt. I like spreading out my writing paraphernalia at THAT table in the library, not the other one.
I think it's time that this old dog learned some new tricks.