Far and away the best part of driving is discovering gratitude. I wouldn't want the life of the captains of industry we drive to and from airports; being a drunk family guy getting kicks from boffing the next-door neighbour's wife is a turn-off; and crazy hyper people for whom everything is a personal insult make me laugh.
Life is not perfect, and the sooner we accommodate that fact, the calmer we'll all be.
Which leads me to Mr Davie. Mr Davie is man who lives hereabouts, a man who retired to Florida when his wife passed away ten years ago. Like many men of his age, his life pretty well fell apart when the mother of his three children succumbed to cancer.
But he carried on, living in a simple old-style condo building, in a ground-floor place with a nice view of an artificial lake.
I met one of his sons first, about a year ago. All the kids (who are grown with children of their own) live in northern states, all separated by hundreds of miles. This son was a copper, a good guy, the sensible beating heart of the country. I drove him to the airport after a visit because his father took ill. Mr Davie recovered. The son and I connected.
Then, about two months ago, the daughter turned up. She arrived one Friday night, and I drove her to her father's place. All the way she texted, talked or emailed, a tribute to the power of 3-G networks. But she was super-pleasant, and took time to explain that she was taking her father back to her state the following Monday after a doctor's appointment, and that the news might not be good.
Assigned the job on Monday, I was trepidatious. But I needn't have worried. Mr Davie (my first actual meeting) was frail, but in good spirits. Maybe it's body language, but I liked him immediately. Although he talked but a little, he clearly knew about business, and life, and knew that life is a funny old journey.
He came back two weeks after that, with his youngest son. While the son fetched the luggage, Mr Davie and I had a good talk. He was in a wheelchair and tired from the journey. But he wanted to go home, to be in his own place.
The Boss hasn't heard since. I hope he never does. I like the idea of Mr Davie happily passing his days looking over the lake.
5 comments:
Very touching story. I'd want to be on my own like that as well; with just someone to help with shopping and things.
Funny, I thought the same thing, Don. He's close to his kids and grand-kids, but doesn't need to live with them.
The old guy has plenty of fight left.
i wonder if we might arrange a "meet cute" between him and miss daisy, sugar? ;~D xoxoxox
Lovely post, Wombat. Maybe Mr. & Mrs. Davie will spend the rest of eternity looking at the lake. It's a nice thought.
Aww, that's a sweet idea, Sugar. Mr Davie's pretty frail, but Miss Daisy might be like oxygen in his tank.
You never know...light blue touchpaper and stand clear....
That's so nice, Nitebyrd. Yep. Me too. The good guys and girls with nice families deserve such peace.
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