Time Out to See.

Original posting on FOD 9/29/00

Sometimes an isolated thought triggered by some outside source will present itself and I am instantly enveloped in a feeling which carries me to another plce or another time. That happened to me yesterday. George had a doctor’s appointment in the city, so we took the opportunity to schedule another appointment to attend to some business and decided to make it a day. We were up at an early hour, got the dogs fed and happy, put some beef stew on in the crockpot and off we went. We enjoy these days, driving to Bainbridge Island and taking the foot ferry from there. We usually don’t take the car, but rather enjoy walking and taking in the bustle of life on the streets.

The ride over the water takes about half an hour and it’s quite relaxing. The ferries play a dominant role in navigating from one land mass to another on Puget Sound. We people-watched as everyone loaded and then settled in with our books for the duration.

Arriving in Seattle, we off-loaded along with everyone else like a herd of cattle…some people continue reading their books or papers even while walking off the ferry, so accustomed are they to the commute and accompanying foot migrations on and off the boats. We quickly headed across the overpass and up the hill to the bus stop.

Our first appointment was with George’s doctor and so we hopped on the First Hill bus to take us to Virginia Mason. As we scurried up the hill, I distinctly remember thinking how nice it was that one of us will frequently reach for the hand of the other whenever we happen to be walking together. It’s something we have always done and I’m usually surprised at how soft George’s hand feels in mine and how warm. I see now how that thought was a small window preview of the emotions awaiting me that day.

We made our appointment with five minutes to spare and after checking in with the receptionist took our seats and once again immersed ourselves in our books. George was called into the examining room in less than five minutes.

George has a nervous habit of clearing his throat – he does this a lot. I’m not sure if his throat really NEEDS clearing, or if he does it as a stall tactic, such as before answering a question, giving an opinion or some such thing. Nevertheless, he does do it and in quite a unique and identifiable manner. It’s one of those little nuances about a person that is as much a part of them as the way they walk or talk.

I was deeply engrossed in my main character’s despair at the drunken ineptness of his first sexual encounter, when I heard George clear his throat. Startled, I looked up from my book to exclaim at how quickly his exam had gone, but I saw only a strange man standing at the receptionist desk. A quick glance around the area told me there were only two is us there – myself and the stranger who had cleared George’s throat. In the instant that I realized it was not George, I was propelled to another place – the future without him.

The unexpected and unexplained feeling was that he was gone and I would never hear him clear his throat again. From that simple thought came a flood of feelings and images, which ranged from seeing someone walk down the street who looked like him from behind, to seeing a couple holding hands as they walked, someone raising their eyebrows before speaking as George does when he’s about to say something you may now agree with, the way he gives me a kiss when I hand his coffee to him in the morning, the way he defends me – even when I’m wrong. I was completely bathed in this most empty feeling. It was a Dickens moment – me projected into a dismal and lonely future.

The feeling was gone as quickly as it had appeared. I went back to reading my book and George emerged in a short while. We laughed as we decided we couldn’t wait to go find a restaurant, we’d eat at the hospital cafeteria we were so hungry. We splurged on French Toast, bacon and sausage – then splurged even more and went back for yogurt. Realizing we had lots of time before our next appointment, we decided to shop. We darted in some little out of the way places we never go into and luxuriated in looking at too expensive artwork, the first Christmas cards of the season, antique French mirrors we could never afford and a multitude of books we would have liked to buy.

We settled on one purchase – a pair of earrings for our niece’s upcoming birthday. Glancing at our watches, we still had time to spare and laughingly decided that, even though it had been only two hours since breakfast, we’d hurry to our favorite “soup kitchen” for lunch. We giggled about eating two meals in less than three hours and the huge crockpot of stew waiting for us when we returned home as we rushed from lunch to make our next appointment.

Business successfully taken care of, we were headed home in short order. At the door we were greeted by our two little ones with much jumping up and down and running back and forth in a jubilant show of happiness. Tired out from the day, we settled into our evening with a glass of wine as the heady aroma of beef stew did a slow dance from the crockpot – the end of a most ordinary day.

Except that it wasn’t ORDINARY to me. I saw things about my husband yesterday that I don’t normally see. I saw how time and again he would silently move himself to be on the curb side as we walked. I noticed the things he pointed out as we shopped – things that were probably of no interest to him, but he knew they would be to me. I noticed how he brought a napkin for me to our little table as we had our soup, because he knows I always forget. I noticed when he leaned down to kiss my cheek as we waited for the light to change. I noticed when he said “Don’t you want popcorn?” on the return ferry, because he knows I always do.

All of this awareness stemming from an isolated cough from a stranger. All the little loves and carings that we so often take for granted and don’t see. I wonder if he sees mine? I hope so – in case he’s the one left behind.