Happiness

Have you ever been happy?

Not this again.

You never answer.

Because I know the answer, and you are always asking.

You are so evasive.

Of course I have been happy ....

When?

Let's see, really there are too many times to list.

Do you really think it was happiness or just what you think happy is supposed to be? 

How would I know the difference?

Really?

Well, there has to be some guidelines, something to use as to measure or whatever.

When everything just feels so right and there are no worries - the mind is free. How is that?

No worries?

Exactly.

I remember, when I was little, we were going through the country, dad was driving, I leaned out the window and waved to those girls, we stopped at that burger joint, the weather was perfect and it was .... yeah, just happiness.

Yeah, that was nice, but remember what happened next?

Yes.

So, you really want to put that on the list of happy moments?

One can be separate from the other.

True, but the latter surely takes the shine off of the former.

Whatever.

Just saying.

I always loved my alone time with him, but then again I knew it was ending soon, so there was anxiety.

What about that night with Teri?

That's a good one, that was a few hours of bliss.

H'bout sustained happiness, not just fleeting moments?

Oh, I know, that summer working at the ballpark and my first car. That was so much fun.

So true, but you have to go that far back to find something? Nothing recent?

Not really, plenty of good moments these days, remember last week at the park with the little one?

Yeah, always good times. Really, I think happiness is relative.

True, but none of my relatives.

Fill it up

I could not believe my luck as I spotted the air hose at the gas station on the corner. I swerved into the parking lot and pulled up to the hose. I spotted a worker near the front door as I stood with door open and eyeballing the hose. I quickly decided to ask about it before grabbing the hose.

"Hey, is the air free for anybody?" I motioned to the hose lying on the pavement in front of my car.

"Does a bear shit in the woods?" He smiled and spit brown liquid to his left. I immediately recognized the outline of the Skoal can in his pocket and the small bump below is lower lip.

"I guess it does." I laugh to myself, not hearing that phrase or question in years. The old neighborhood had not changed.

"Air get you only so far if that tire is leaking." He pointed to my car, seemingly trying to make a sale.

"It's a slow leak, just wanted to top it off before hitting mom's house and then heading home."

"You o'er fill it and it'll be ruint." 

"Yeah, good point, I'll stay at the recommended amount, I have a gauge." I hold up the silver tire gauge as proof, thinking I need to proof I am not an idiot.

"I can plug her up if just a hole, otherwise it'll be more work or maybe a new one."

"I appreciate it, but it is covered by a warranty, I'll take it to them tomorrow." Why was I trying to explain myself to this kid?

"Suit yourself."

"Thank you, I really appreciate it." I filled the tire and went through the motions of checking with the gauge although I had never planned to use it. I looked up and the kid was gone inside.

I sped out the parking lot towards mom's house and I kept wondering if bears actually do relieve themselves in the woods, I assume yes and there has to be plenty of evidence scattered around forests.

Surprise

[BEFORE]

“I’m pregnant,” she stood at the top of the steps looking down on him with one hand warily cupped between her legs.

“What?” His gaze drifted from Monday Night Football.

She released her hand and it fell to side. The site of blood on her hand was alarming, a pool formed on the floor.

“I wanted to say something sooner, I tried, I don’t know, it never felt right.” She shifted her weight from one leg to another and back.

“It’s okay,” he shot from this perch on the couch to be by her side. He wiped one tear from her check just before kissing it and dialing the hospital.

“But….” She looked down at the collection of blood.

“I’m going back and forth between ambulance and driving, I dunno. He eyeballed the blood wondering about the long-term damage to the oak floors.

“No, I can get a pad, let me grab some sweatpants and we’ll go.” She gingerly climbed the steps.

“I can get uber if you insist on a cab,” he talked while tapping the uber app.

“Jesus, I said PAD not TAXI – you know the things that help control the bleeding?”

“Uhm, okay.” He was dazed, but the slight smile on her face as he looked at the blood was hard to ignore. Would she have ever told him? Is this what she wanted? He walked outside to the car and pulled it to the side door.

“Here, put this on the seat,” she handed him a towel before dropping into the passenger seat. 

The drive to the emergency room was painless given the Sunday night traffic. He eyed the passenger seat hoping there was no stain. He whipped into the emergency entrance – wheels screeched to a stop.

“Here you go,” he guided her into a nearby wheelchair into the dimly lit waiting area with a only a few people waiting.

“I’m fine, you can park the car,” she tried to guide the chair herself but finally dropped her hands in her lap as he guided her down the linoleum lined hallway. 

He felt numb as she provided the necessary information to the nurse. Fatherhood was not a foreign concept with a stepson at home, but his own flesh and blood? Would it be a boy or girl? What about names? He turned and examined her and sadness enveloped him.

“You okay?” She reached and patted his hand while leaning toward him.

“Me? What about you? How is the bleeding?” The words left his mouth but he could not remember their formation. He wanted to scream, he wanted to run, but he quietly accompanied her to an exam room.

“It seems to have stopped or least only a trickle at this point.” 

“How long?”

“What? It’s only a few drops since we’ve been here, so much better.” She looked down and pulled back the pad as she talked.

“How far along?” The anger and frustration was percolating just below the surface. He wanted answers now.

“Oh, yeah, right, well I think, let’s see ten weeks? Yeah, twelve is what we discussed at the doctor last week.” She looked up into the fluorescent light while doing the math.

“Doctor? Ten weeks? Seriously?”

....

[AFTER]

“I’m pregnant,” she stood at the top of the steps looking down on him.

“What?” His gaze drifted from Monday Night Football.

She released her hand and held it up to show blood - a puddle formed on the floor.

“I wanted to say something sooner, I don’t know, it never felt right.”

“It’s okay,” he shot from the couch to her side. He wiped one tear away just before kissing her and looking at his phone.

“But….” She looked down at the blood.

“Ambulance or drive, I dunno. He eyeballed the blood wondering about the long-term damage to the floor.

“No, I can get a pad, let me grab some sweatpants and we’ll go.” She disappeared into their bedroom.

“I can get uber” he talked while looking for the uber app.

“Jesus, I said PAD not CAB – you know the things that help with bleeding?”

“Okay.” He was dazed by  the slight smile on her face. Would she have ever told him? Why hadn't she told him? He walked outside to the car and pulled to the side door.

“Here, put this on the seat,” she handed him a towel before dropping into the seat. 

The drive was painless given it was a Sunday night. He eyed the passenger seat before whipping into the emergency entrance.

“Here you go,” he guided her into a nearby wheelchair and then almost empty waiting room.

“I’m fine, you can park the car,” she tried to guide the chair herself but gave up as he guided it down the hallway. 

He felt numb as she talked to the nurse. Fatherhood was not a foreign concept with a stepson at home, but his own flesh and blood? Would it be a boy or girl? What about names? He turned and examined her and sadness overcame him.

“You okay?” She reached and patted his hand.

“Sure, what about you?” The words robotically left his mouth. He always seemed to say the right thing, but he wanted to scream, he wanted to run, but instead quietly accompanied to a room.

“I think the bleeding stopped.” 

“How long?”

“It’s only a few drops since we’ve been here.” She looked down and pulled back the pad while talking.

“How far along?” The anger and frustration was percolating -  he wanted answers.

“Oh, yeah, right, well I think, let’s see ten weeks? Yeah, that is what we discussed at the doctor last week.” She looked up into the fluorescent light while doing the math.

“Doctor? Ten weeks? Seriously?”

Rainy

[BEFORE]

The raindrops hit the window sill, the sky lights up and I am suddenly sitting in Mamaw's kitchen. She is baking her famous apple kuchen, baking it just for me. I can smell the rain through the screened back porch, it mixes with the dog pee as the porch is their bathroom as well. I sit on my stool and smile as she sings her favorite Eddie Rabbit song - I Love a Rainy Night - you see a rainy night washed away all of  his cares and just makes him feel good. I think of my time with Mamaw the same way. A big hug and my troubles were gone. She would send me to the utility room - washer/dryer and storage area - to fetch a bottle of soda, a bottle just for me. I'd open that bottle sitting at her table, savor every drop as she worked her magic in the kitchen or told me a story. I was one of her ten grandchildren, so one-on-one time with her was extra special. Like the Eddie Rabbit song, I always woke up to a sunny day after time with her. The power of a song to transport is amazing - Mamaw loved country music, so I am forever tied to Merle, Conway, Dolly and many more forever embedded in my memory.

[AFTER]

The raindrops strike the window as lightning fills the sky. Mamaw is baking her famous apple kuchen. The combination of rain and dog pee from the back porch is overwhelming. Mamaw hums her favorite Eddie Rabbit song as I am perched on my stool. Eddie proclaims he loves a rainy night as it washes away all of his cares making him feel good. A big hug from Mamaw affected me the same way.. I would sit drinking my own bottle of soda with her at the kitchen table doing any number of things while telling me stories. Being the youngest of her ten grandchildren had its perks. I always woke up to a sunny day after time with her just like Eddie Rabbit after a rainy night. The power of a song to transport is amazing.

Arrival

[BEFORE]

The truck crept through the entrance as he examined the numbers above the doors. He double checked his car doors  before heading inside. The kids playing near the dumpster eyed him suspiciously. The suit and tie were a warning sign in this neighborhood.

He held his breath while climbing to the third floor - the smell of urine filled the stairwell The crumpled paper instructed him to go to door on the right - number 6 - at the top of the stairs. He stood facing the door. The number nine laughed at him. A quick glance at the door on the opposite side yielded the number five. He reached out and nudged the nine upward until it said 6.

[AFTER]

The blue compact truck crawled while he searched the building numbers. He stabbed the remote button twice to ensure locked doors before darting inside. The neighborhood kids stopped and watched him, his suite and tie triggered alarms as residents wondered who was being served.

He climbed the steps two at a time while the strong urine odor stung his nostrils. He flattened the paper with his hands while confirming number 6. He held up the paper while  searching the hallway. He flipped the nine hanging lower than other times to reveal its true identity - nine. He fell and swing back and forth when he released it. He mad a fist and gave the door two loud knocks that echoed down the hallway - he heard footsteps at other doors as they snooped.

Mail

Noise surrounding me, a familiar engine humming, inching along our road. I walk and peer outside, but it was gone. I step into bright sunlight - looking in all directions, empty like a desert. The mailbox beckons me - anticipating special delivery. Walking on driveway - rocks hurt. Empty, nothing but darkness inside my mail portal, dejected while returning with nothing.

Laugh

Always find a reason to laugh.