Do you remember?

Where the Sunbeams End: Chapter 18

I could tell by the way her feet tapped on the floor upstairs. There was an excitement to that tapping. As if her body just couldn’t quite contain a sort of primal dance. 

“You brought that dog home with you,” I called up the stairs. 

More shuffling and tapping as she made her way through the kitchen, down the hall to the steps. 

Then they both came into view. Judith stopped at the top of the basement steps, staring down into my eyes. Her smile was infectious. As I felt a grin spread across my face I looked down into her arms and there was little Lucy. 

A bundle of brown and black fluff with a look of curiosity and confusion streamed across her tiny face. She had me from hello. 

We spent the rest of the day playing and taking pictures. She really was our newborn, our baby, our Lucy. 

Late that night I was stirred from a deep sleep by the sound of high pitched giggles. 

“Oh Lucy!” Judith squealed between fits of laughter. 

Lucy laid between us in bed, sprawled on her back, staring upward at the ceiling. 

“Has she been awake this whole time? I don’t think she’s ever spent a night inside, look at her!” Said Judith. 

I couldn’t help but giggle a little myself. It's as if she was looking for the stars and the moon. That dead stare finally broke as Lucy seemed to realize we were mocking her. I leaned over and she quickly licked my face. 

I know it wasn’t the next morning, but it was around the time we got Lucy when my father had a stroke. 

It was early. 6 A.M. The shriek of the smoke alarm probably saved his life. Most days I would have got up and pulled the battery out, before slinking back under the covers and drifting back to sleep. But something pushed me upstairs and down the hall to Dad’s room. 

“Come on! Work with me!” 

I found my dad on the toilet, both hands wrapped around his thigh, trying desperately to move. 

“We’re gonna get you help Dad,” I said. 

There was panic. I felt helpless, so I just dialed 911. 

I remember them struggling to fit the stretcher down the hall and into the bedroom. But then he was gone, off to the hospital as I stared down the driveway. I never really thought Dad was going to die. But the thought that did cross my mind was, what if I hadn’t been there? 

That first manic psychosis had turned me down a weed ridden path. I'd often question why all of this had happened to me. Failing at school, failing at work, unable to manage this bipolar life, and still living at home. But that day, watching Dad being ushered away to the hospital, it felt as if God was winking at me. There was an overwhelming feeling that I was where I was supposed to be, that my path, although weedy, was the right path. 

I was overcome with gratitude. Maybe that’s why the man asked us. Maybe he could tell, maybe I put off the positive vibes. Or maybe we looked innocent, and maybe he did have dark motives. 

We were standing next to the van in the parking lot of Winchester Medical Center when he walked up. Dad was going to have a lengthy stay, but his chances of recovery were good. The man was intimidating. Not physically intimidating, but he reeked of life. And life is not always easy to live with. 

He just wanted a ride. 

I told him we were happy to help, but as he climbed into the back seat, Judith looked into my eyes and shook her head vehemently. I tried to throw her a calming glance. 

Maybe it was just Judith’s anxiety, but as we drove I began to feel uneasy. I noticed the Leatherman on the center console. I nodded as the man continued to thank us, while pointing out directions and going on about his story. There just weren’t a lot of people like us, who were willing to help someone in need, he explained. 

Then he had the Leatherman in his hand, the snap of the knife blade, Judith’s screaming and pleading. He firmly gripped my shoulder from the back seat as he continued to wave the blade near Judith’s anxious face. I looked into the rear view mirror, directly into his cold blue eyes. 

Then I snapped back. The Leatherman remained on the center console, Judith remained quiet, although still anxious, and the man continued to simply point out directions. 

The more the man talked the less I believed his story. Were we in danger? Probably not, but I couldn’t be sure. As the man pointed down a sketchy looking side street I decided that I’d had enough. I pulled into a church parking lot and told him this was as far as we could take him. 

“Well, God bless you all. And thanks again,” he said. 

“No problem, and good luck to you,” I responded as I extended my hand. 

A brief shake and he was on his way out of the church parking lot and down that side street. 

I’ll never know whether that man had any dark motives or not, but I remember the feeling of fear creeping in like a storm on the horizon. Where that fear came from, I don’t know exactly. Maybe I just picked up on Judith’s vibe, but the clouds cleared as the man walked away. I like to help people, I think it’s what keeps this world spinning in a lot of ways. Small acts of kindness. But, there are moments when you can’t ignore your gut feelings, when everything in your being is shouting BEWARE. 

That man may have scared me, but he also left me with a gift. I’d been so depressed, confused, and worried about everything, but that man put things in perspective for me. Again gratitude rained down. I had my family, my wife, my little pup. People cared for me and loved me. Sometimes we forget. I hope today you remember.