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Clear Sight in the Fog

I fear my blog is suffering because of the fun I’m having with the book.  Tuesday the weather was drizzly all day and I hunkered down with my camera and the computer.  Wrote the end, which was more painful than I expected.  I find myself in the same or at the very least, frighteningly similar, state of life.  Starting over, reinventing, bull-headed, plunging ahead on a path that requires a tremendous amount of faith in little ol’ me.

At 2pm, I roused myself and showered, packed up my camera and headed to The Country Mile.  This particular establishment it guaranteed to provide entertainment with no stress of having to face reality.  Gas is $0.10 cheaper than anywhere else and it’s a liquor store so I try to time my petroleum consumption with my wine rack reduction.

I had been sequestered for so many hours that I had begun, not only talking to the dogs but thinking they were answering me.  As I bumped along in the dense fog, (we are in the height of pot hole bloom) I corralled my thoughts and told myself I was going to be really nice to the first person I saw.  I would look them directly in the eye and hear what they were saying.

This sharpened my own eye and I had to pull over to take this quick shot:

At the “Mile” I pulled right into the aisle and up to the first pump.  Yippee!  There was no one parked mid-way between the pumps who had then disappeared into the store for a suitcase/briefcase whatever-you-call-it of Bud.  I am definitely the “Gas pump police” when it comes to those people as there is usually a line of cars waiting to get to the pumps.

As I hopped out to fill the tank, the guy on the reverse side of the pumps offered “Nice Truck”.  I didn’t even look but replied, “Yep, I love my truck.”  When I got my transaction done and the pump started I glanced around and realized he had the exact same truck in green.  I asked what he got for mileage and how he liked it. We chatted.  Then, during a lull in he said, “I just had to get out of the house, I only live down the road.  But I was so lonely.   You see, my wife died 3 years ago.”  I looked him dead in the eye and said, “I am so very sorry for your loss.  Lonely is not fun.”  He seemed relieved and continued, “57 years old, ovarian cancer.  I miss her every day.  We built a house five years ago, were going to retire.  Now it’s me and the house.”  I couldn’t help but think, maybe this conversation will cheer him up in some odd way, to know someone cared what he was thinking.

He finished filling his tank, hung up the hose and turned as he climbed up in his truck.  “Thank you, it was nice to talk to you”.  He smiled as he backed out and I winked at him.

Yes, a day of fog but also a day of clear sight.

2 comments on “Clear Sight in the Fog

  1. Sometimes, a little interaction goes a long way for both people and both people are the better for it.


  2. Laura, I'm sure you see this in your travels, a lot! I always enjoy your perspective.


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