I took the usual hot lemon and water into my lady this morning and she started to get out of bed. "I'm getting dressed," she said. "What?" "But you haven't had breakfast!"
"Get my clothes. I'm going to meditation," she says.
I make the horrible mistake of asking, Are you sure? She refrains from saying anything like yes I'm sure you idiot. What do you think I am senile?
She told me she wanted me to take her to meditation at 8 on Tuesdays but for some reason I assumed 8pm, not 8am. And, I was a little confused because I thought, she can barely stay awake until 9pm, how's she going to go to meditation at 8pm by the time I pick her up I'll have to carry her like when parents go out for the evening and their toddlers fall asleep and have to be carried to the car. She's not very big but I'm not that strong.
I grab her clothes off the chair. Socks. shoes. Tie the laces.She pulls on her baggy sweats haphazardly. Undershirt. Cotton turtle neck. Sweater vest. You would think I'd actually had children given how good I am at taking on and off her clothes in record time. I impress myself even. You did that pretty good she says. What do you mean pretty good I wonder. How about damn good! You would think I'd had a lot of practice taking off other people's clothes alot. Not true. I hate taking other people's clothes off which is just fine because it's a skill that isn't high up on the necessary requirements in my daily life list and even, in the past, when it was, I preferred it if they took their own clothes off.
She grabs her cane and with ease I grab her other arm and we get to the passenger side of her Toyota. This is easy I think. I didn't know it would be this easy. Hell, we're not sittin'around here everynight when she's this portable. Let's see what entertainment can we take in this week that ends by 9pm. Leon Bibb is coming to Art Spring. I wonder if she'd be into that? Swing classes? (kidding) The sky's the limit.
Maybe she can take up an instrument and come with me to band practice. We could use another alto sax.
I jump in the Toyota and drive the 10 minutes to St. Mark's Church on what has to be the most dangerous corner on Salt Spring. A cop is following me all the way. My lady reminds me to slow to 30 mph in the school zone. We drive up the bumpy, dirt lane that leads to the church, past a grave stone surrounded by a fence that looks like it has been there before Christ arrived on earth.
I get her out of the car, and walk into the dark church which is the cutest thing I've ever seen inside. It's as if the late Canadian writer Margaret Laurence might be sitting in on this meditation group as well. Have we teleported to Manawaka?
A group of people are sitting talking quietly and my lady is greeted by one of them with such joy and friendliness that I'm happy that she has insisted on coming.
I bid her farewell and drive back home. Park the car. Drink my coffee. Eat my raisin bran. And depart downstairs into my cozy basement paradise to watch the deer in the field and prepare for another day before heading to work.
PS: The photo above is not a photo of St. Marks. It's a church in Chemainus, BC.