Yesterday was a scorcher. As temperatures soared over 100, Oliver and I enjoyed the comfort of Winterpast and fresh air conditioning. AC. Truly a gift from the heavens. When it’s this hot in the desert, there’s no choice but to find a cool spot and wait it out. I moved out of the Central Valley of California to get away from the 100+ degree days and yet, in the twilight of my life, here I am again. Sweltering.
Two friends from church came over yesterday to inspect the wood lathe I have sitting in the barn. Turning wood was one of the few remaining skills that VST hadn’t developed in his 64 years. With hundreds of spindles lining our deck at the Dun Movin’ House in VC, he had decided to give her more charm and make square spindles into decorative ones. Time got the better of us and he never even switched the brand new lathe to the “On” position. Instead, we packed up and sold. He moved on to heaven, and 17 days later I moved on to my dusty little wide spot in the road now known as “Home”.
VST would have liked this visiting couple. RVing and enjoying all things outdoors, yesterday’s visit was enjoyable in every way. Overlapping interests kept us talking for a good long time. I kept thinking it would be swell if VST could just pop in for an hour. He would’ve added to the conversation, interjecting details probably forgotten. Talk about VST comes easier to me these days. No one here can possibly know what a loss it was to lose the other half of my soul. They’ll never be another VST. Not even close.
I’d just settled in for an evening with Oliver. With my diet totally blown on a Sonic Burger and Chocolate milkshake earlier in the day, I settled for a fresh shrimp cocktail and some trash TV. This is something I don’t make a habit of because such programming is a delicious waste of brain power and I enjoy it way too much.
It was then I got the invitation.
“Would anyone like to meet be for ice cream at the ‘Cream and Cone’?” The lone text came across my phone.
Well, color me off my diet. They didn’t need to ask twice. Quicker than a cricket, I had my hair in a pony tail and was off in the Jeep. “Cream and Cone” features homemade ice cream of the best varieties. Made out of the finest ingredients, they sell the best treats to enjoy any time of the year.
The three of us chose to sit outside to enjoy the desert evening. How can a place be so intensely hot at noon, yet perfectly breezy hours later. Such is life here on the high plains of Northwestern Nevada.
We talked about so many things, getting to know each other better over our cones. These women are cornerstones of the foundation of my circle of friendship. Strong women with values they wear like brightly colored scarves. Christian women that demonstrate their faith with deeds, not words. They feed the elderly and poor, finding their pantries never empty. They see the unseen, fragile homeless that are sometimes invisible in plain sight. While doing this, they remain real women with salty secrets, just like me. I shared ice cream with two angels on earth.
As I was inhaling a huge cookie dough ice cream cone, a man slowly walked by our table. He was in obvious pain as he limped. His skin was baked and cracked like brownies just out of the oven. We were talking about the mysteries of the local mansion and he interjected that it had a value of $2.9 million. With that, he stopped to talk for a couple minutes. Right away, Angel #1 cued to the fact that he was hungry. She asked if he needed something to eat and produced two gift cards for food. Hesitantly, he accepted them.
Then, he shared. A marine for 12 years. Lived there a long time. Down on his luck. Trouble with alcohol. Living under the bridge. His encampment burned a few nights ago by kids. His brother on his way from Utah to take him home. All details of a life in trouble, shared in a passing conversation.
Before he left, he did something so amazing, it shocked me. He prayed for us in his native language. A beautiful prayer. Spiritual and earthy from this soft spoken gentleman who was just waiting patiently for his brother to arrive from Utah. As he limped away, his prayer covered us as we finished our ice cream.
I got back home well after dark last night. The mustangs are on nightly neighborhood raids now, looking for a drink and some cool grass to eat. The sound of their hooves on the pavement was a lovely lullaby as I fell asleep.
Once in awhile, slip outside your comfort zone to listen to another’s story. There is such love, tragedy, intensity, pain, and adventure in our great world. Sometimes, the best stories are those told by someone just waiting on a brother.
More tomorrow.