His dresser top held a photo of me at my high school graduation and a wooden pipe caddy with four pipes, a spotless ashtray, and a container of tobacco. His nightstand held a recharging flashlight and a book with yellowing pages, open and face down, but gently so as not to break the spine. It was Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein. Dad’s bed had the sheet and blankets turned down as if awaiting his return. I sat on the bed and picked up his pillow. It smelled like him, musky cologne mixed with faint traces of tobacco. I hugged the pillow and closed my eyes. What would it have been like to have been around him more? How would my life be different? How would I be different?
I still don’t have the keys figured out and I don’t know if Elliot has one to the house, so I left the door unlocked. On the way out, I stopped and locked up the gate, noticing the trash can sitting empty, no stiff legs sticking out, just the memory of the goat we lost.
It was near pitch dark, and the sky was starting to spit snow again, as I headed back to Liv’s. The shush of the tires made me a little drowsy, but I could not bring myself to turn the radio on. The ring of keys on the passenger seat kept me company, and to entertain myself, I thought about what locks the keys might go to – shed doors, vehicles, maybe a safe?
What would Dad keep in a safe? Maybe I’ll get Liv to come out with me next time. I am more tired than I have ever been in my life, but I had to get everything written down so I could sleep. I will have to figure out some sort of schedule so I can get my office work done, too. I have a nagging feeling I forgot to do something before I left the farm.
January 30, 2013
Last Tuesday (catching up my entries)
Well, the thing that was bothering me that day was that I didn’t get the gate latched that goes to the chicken coops. And what’s worse, I slept in the next morning and didn’t get out there until around 1:00. So the rounding up of birds fell to Elliot and our neighbor, Sheila Ybarra, who stopped to help him on her way out to get her groceries. She’s the one who has been picking up supplies for the farm since Dad got sick. I felt like an idiot for being so reckless, but Elliot said anybody could have done the same thing. He doesn’t think we lost any birds, at least. Goes to show, I am not cut out to be a farmer.
It was a little bit warmer than the day before, so I walked across the road to Sheila’s to tell her I was sorry about bugging her. I asked Elliot about taking her some eggs or stew, but he said, “Naw, we already traded. But let her know I saw her roan is looking a little weedy, so they need their hay checked over and more supplements, and see if she needs to get her teeth floated or get her wormed.” That was probably the most Elliot had ever said to me at one time so far. I’m not complaining. He does an incredible amount of work, and he is really easy to get along with.
I do have to say, though, Sheila is a spitfire. She invited me into her house and wouldn’t let me leave without having some coffee with her. She showed me about forty pictures of her husband, kids, and grand kids, and she told me how her “sweet” husband passed on two years and three months ago. She leaned in and confided in me, “I didn’t even tell my daughter, but I’ll tell you. I wanted to lay down and die, too, but I got too much life left in me. I got my horses, church, the food bank, and seems there’s always nice new people showing up, like you.” She touched my wrist. “Hon, and you should see me when I get to Tempe. I am up at sunrise, playing with those babies, and I fall asleep in my chair after dinner, like a old person. I know, you think I’m old, but I never did feel old ‘til the day Argi came back from tending the sheep and sat in that chair over there …” She pointed to an orange rocker/recliner. “And cried. He wasn’t ashamed of crying, cried whenever he needed to – over lost loved ones, over nearly losing our Jinny, over many a people’s troubles – but never for his own pain. He said ‘I’m gonna have to quit, Sheila. I don’t have it in me no more.’ He sold the sheep off and was gone a year later. Anyway, I thank you for letting me know about Rosemarie.” It took me a minute to realize she meant the horse.
“Oh, of course,” I said.
On my way out, I asked her if she had internet, since I was thinking about getting the service for the farm. She said she only had TV on internet and it was really expensive. “You know, your daddy helped me every once in a while when it went down. It’s funny, he knew everything you’d ever need to know about computers, but he never did have it at his own place. He said
