Page 11 of A Place for Daydreams

“Samantha!” she called, not quite shouting since she didn’t want to disturb the other customers.

Samantha didn’t appear, but she decided to start checking out anyway, knowing that Samatha would know to come look for her at the front of the store sooner rather than later.

She was greeted by the friendly cashier and began to unload her cart onto the conveyer belt. As she worked, she noticed a catalog in the magazine rack. It was titled,How to Make Your Own DIY Spa Day.

Hazel picked up the catalog with interest. A few flips through the glossy pages told her that it was something she wanted to purchase. She thought that having a “do-it-yourself” spa day was a wonderful idea.

“Hey, Mom!” Samantha sashayed up to her. “Ooh, that looks cool.”

“It does, doesn’t it? I think I’m going to buy it.”

As Hazel placed the catalogue down onto the conveyer belt, she felt a surge of excitement. Having a spa day would be the perfect way to treat herself with love and care, and remind herself that she didn’t need a man in her life to feel happy.

Dean leaned against his kitchen counter, rubbing his hands gently. He was frowning and staring into space. Next to him on the stove, a pot of freshly-made spaghetti was starting to cool. He’d made it for his dinner, but now he was beginning to lose his appetite.

He’d had a good day at work, until the very end. For most of the day, he’d had good energy and almost no pain. Then in thelate afternoon, his hands had begun to hurt. He’d brushed off his concerns and kept working, but by the time he was back at home and cooking dinner for himself, his hands were in a lot of pain.

And it’s only the start of the week,he thought.I rested all weekend.

Feeling a twist of worry, he turned around and got a plate out of the cupboard, along with a fork. He dished himself out a generous portion of spaghetti and meatballs, and then covered the pasta with a sprinkling of parmesan cheese. Then he plopped some pre-washed spinach leaves onto the side of his plate and drizzled ranch dressing over them, making a lazy salad. Finally, he sat down at his table with the plate of food and a can of lemon seltzer water.

He began to eat, relishing the taste of the food but unable to ignore the way his hands still ached with a dull pain. He tried to stay optimistic as he ate his meal, but he was becoming more and more worried.

He thought about what he might be able to do to help with the pain, and his mind lighted on the idea of compression. He paused in his eating for a moment, considering it. He wasn’t sure if it would work or not, but he decided it was worth a try. He remembered that he had a wrist brace from when he’d tweaked his wrist playing baseball in high school. He wasn’t exactly sure where it was, but he guessed that it was in an old box filled with high school paraphernalia that he kept up in the attic.

When he’d finished his meal, he felt refreshed and a little more energized. He went up to the attic and located the old box, and then he brought it back downstairs to the living room so he could look through it more comfortably.

He took a long sip of his seltzer water and began to dig into the box. The first thing he pulled out was his old baseball jersey, and he grinned when he saw it, immediately flooded with memories.

Below the jersey was a messy collection of items, including his high school yearbooks. He drew out the first one almost reverently, surprised by how intensely nostalgic he felt all of a sudden. He began to turn the pages slowly, a huge smile on his face as he relived old times in his mind.

He felt delighted by the pictures that he saw. He grinned as he saw old photographs of his classmates, marveling at how young everyone looked. He laughed over the sight of Hazel wearing braces, and a picture of himself with a black eye that he’d gotten playing baseball.

When he’d finished going through the yearbooks, he found a photo album underneath them. He remembered with a grin when Julia had given it to him, and he opened it eagerly. Inside were more pictures of his high school glory days—baseball games and board game nights with his friends—and then the pictures began to be of his first few years after high school, when he’d become a mechanic and worked at the local hardware store part time.

As he kept turning the pages, he began to see pictures from when he started his auto repair shop. There were photographs of the grand opening, and the party that they’d had in the garage afterward. He chuckled over pictures of the car-shaped cake that his mother had made, and the banner that Hazel had made that had read, “Congrats on the Best Auto Shop in Town.”

His heart felt warmed by the sight of so many good memories. He remembered how much energy and hope for the future he’d had.

I want to prolong my youth, he thought, feeling a sudden surge of determination.I want to feel good like that again. If there’s a way for that to happen, I’m going to take it.

He closed the photo album, deciding that he was going to make a physical therapy appointment the following day.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Bye, Mr. Dawson! Great work today!”

Noelle stood in the lobby of the physical therapy clinic, waving to the sweet old man who was walking out the front door, carefully using his cane. He lifted a hand and waved back cheerfully, a huge smile on his face. She grinned at him, thinking to herself that he had probably been her favorite patient so far. He’d been incredibly sweet and good natured throughout his entire appointment, cracking silly jokes and laughing instead of complaining when he was struggling with something. He’d worn a button-down sweater with a dandelion tucked into one of the buttonholes, and when she’d asked him about it, he’d said, “I don’t think dandelions get enough credit, do they? Look at how pretty it is.”

“Oh, he’s darling,” she murmured as the door closed behind him. “What a sweetheart.”

She turned around and started to head back toward her office, reflecting that her appointment with the elderly man had been a wonderful way to start her morning. Mr. Dawson had been her first and only patient so far that day, and he’d brightened her whole morning as completely as if it was his job.

I love working with the older folks, she thought as she stepped back inside her cozy office.And in a small town like this, most of my patients are probably going to be on the elderly side.

She smiled, sitting down at her desk and turning on her laptop. She was used to having a wide variety of patients, some of them healing from serious injuries and some of them struggling with conditions that made mobility difficult for them. She thought to herself that she might miss the challenges that came along with helping some of those kinds of patients, but she reminded herself that her work was always rewarding. It was a joy for her to see her patients improve their health and mobility, no matter what their struggles were.

She found herself staring into space, remembering how she always used to imagine that she might meet some handsome man who came to her as a therapy patient one day. She chuckled, shaking her head at the idea.

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