The Good Samaritan

Apparently I’ve reached the age at which people are looking out for my elderly well-being. There I was, lying on the lawn at the edge of my driveway. A contractor would soon be re-sealing the blacktop and I was trimming the edges.

Now, I must admit, in earlier years I would have been doing the job on my feet, bent over the pavement’s edge, my clippers working their magic. Now, though, my arthritis is showing up here, there and, it seems, everywhere I have a bone. So, once I’ve gotten down, I find it easier to just stay that way. Fully extended on my side, I was clipping my way toward the street inch by inch by inch. It’s a bit tough on the elbow, but it beats getting down and up and down again.

As a side note, having been diagnosed with narcolepsy many years ago, I find the reclining position much to my liking. Warmed by the summer sun, I could have easily curled up on a pillow of clover and taken a five minute trip to La-la-land…But I swear, that didn’t happen.

On this particular day, I had just passed the sidewalk and was nearing the edge of the street . . . the halfway mark of my task. Okay, maybe I put my head down for just a moment, but I did NOT close my eyes. Along comes this car. I begin to sense that it is slowing down. Thank you for your awareness, I thought. Then the car stopped. With a barely audible whirr, the driver’s window disappeared into the doorframe. A friendly face with a slightly furrowed brow looked out at me

“Do you need some help?”

Now, I was expecting that he might be lost and asking for my assistance. Maybe he was looking for the house two streets away that has the exact same address as ours except theirs ends with a “Circle” and ours ends with a “Road”. That confuses a lot of people, mostly delivery drivers, and well it should . . . but I digress.

“No thanks. Just pulling weeds.”

I smiled and nodded my head. My tiny brain, though, was working on another possible answer. What I should have said was,

“Sure, how about finishing the other side of the driveway?”

The man smiled back. The window re-appeared, moving back into the full upright position. Then the man continued on his merry way. I stared at the car as it distanced itself from me. My tiny brain began wondering . . . Do I LOOK like I own a button that says, “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”

To be honest, I really was grateful for his concern. He stopped to ask. That was very thoughtful of him. In general, though, I’m really miffed. Apparently I have reached the age when people mistake my laboring for possible trouble. When, exactly, did I get old?

Anyway, that’s my story this month and I’m sticking to it.

Rick….

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