It was already dark when I left John’s farm. I was lucky that the path was recently smoothed over by some sort of heavy equipment, so my truck made short work of the distance from the farm to the main road.
Paused in the stop, the darkness was already thick, and the headlamps barely pierced the night, I shivered. It was from the cold breeze that suddenly swept in the vehicle but more so by the thought that came back to me from something John said.
We had laughed about the burning bush though both of us knew there was deeper meaning to this mystical happening. We were not ready to go there, at least not today, maybe another time we would sit and discuss the esoteric nature of what John experienced.
Our talk wended its way into this and that until, attempting to stand and stretch my back and legs, I realized I could not move. It left like I was nailed to the ground.
Groaning, I rolled over onto my belly and then using my hands and legs, I pushed myself up, like a baby that was just learning to roll over and stand up.
Goodness, gracious me, What is with this aging thing? The din from my fiftieth gun salute was still ringing in my ear. Well, something has my ears ringing……and now I could not get up off the ground without a grimace. I knew John was watching me, and I did not have to guess twice as to the look that would be plastered across his face.
“Say not a word, just hush,”
“Me, what I can say, ‘cept welcome to de club?” John, stifling laughter.
“I don’t remember signing up to be no member,” was my sharp retort.
Finally making it to upright position, I looked around. The sun was beginning to dip in the west, “I going be making tracks soon, John. I don’t want night to catch me up here. I might see more than a burning bush.”
John did not reply so I turned to look at my friend, I wanted to make sure that he was okay with my teasing him. Sometimes I tease too hard and end up upsetting people. As we say where I’m from, some people can’t tek a joke.
A strange look was on John’s face and as I stared, I saw the emotions create a movie — he was thinking about something that sent waves of sadness, hints of regret and dashes of deep pain across his visage.
Realizing his emotions were on full display, he quickly shuttered his face with a mask of resignation. “Maybe it’s not old age dat really kills us, you know……. maybe we die when we kill our dreams,” murmured John.
I shivered again. Easing my foot off the clutch, my truck began a slow roll towards home.
I. Trudie Palmer
One Love