Let me start out this blog by saying I am so glad to be inside where no one can help me. Yes, re-read the last sentence… I have had a heck of a day trying not to get help.
It all started when I went out today to get my mail. My house fronts out to a major highway and is across the street from a rest stop for truck drivers. Huge rigs park while the drivers rest or sleep. I went out my front door and headed across the yard to the mailbox which was situated on the edge of the street. I stepped into the street to reach the box … just as I started to snatch my mail from the box … someone… a 6′ skinny drink of water with a baseball cap on sideways and pants that looked like they were going to fall off any minute… grabbed my arm. “Let me help you, Lady.” He must have been about 13 or 14. I tried to tell him I was ok and did not need help. “You don’t have to be proud. I help my grandmother all the time. Come on… I’ll get you across the street.” He was so determined to help me across the street I decided he needed to help me more than I needed help. So, we crossed the street. I thanked him for his kindness and waited for him to disappear down the block.
Once the coast was clear I started across the street. I did not want to go all the way to the corner and cross at the light (one block away) I wanted to cross in front of my house. I was about to dart across the four-lane highway I had just come across when the police pulled up and gave me a lecture about jaywalking. The young girl officer was very polite and insisted on helping me to the corner and watched as I crossed the street. Between the end of the block and my house are 3 driveways. One leads to a motel behind my house, one a truck repair shop, and another is a side street. Yes, you are right… I got help with each crossing.
A trucker staying at the motel stopped dead in front of me on the drive and insisted on helping me cross the drive. A man out walking his dog insisted I let him help me cross the next driveway to get past all the truck repair traffic.
You are not going to believe it. Just as I was crossing my own driveway into my own yard that same “kid” yelled from across the street. “You stay right there, I will help you.”
I waved my hands in the air, danced a little jig, and shouted “I am doing just fine, but thank you anyway.” It was a race to see if I could get to my front steps before he could get to me. It was a tie. I gave him a grandmotherly hug and said, “You want to help me? Please, go over there and bring me my mail.” He was so delighted. He sprang to his task as if I had just crowned him king. He got my mail and brought it to me. I thank him for all his help.
I sat on the front porch for a minute as he disappeared again around the corner. Then I looked everywhere before getting up and darting into the house.
I peeked out the window… No one was rushing to help me… Thank Goodness. It had taken me over an hour to get my mail… ten feet from the front porch.
I had all the help I could stand for one day. All of my helpers wished me a happy Valentine’s day. I think back in the day when I was young and my walk would excite my husband and bring out the romance in him. Now… everyone wants to help me. Yes, I am an odd duck. I quack when it is funny, I waddle just a bit, and I love being on the water. I just got a call from the Chief of Police about me dancing in my front yard…
He wanted me to be careful. Said if I need help … just give him a call. Yikes! Not again.Recommended1 recommendationPublished in