Page 1 of Together in Harmony
HARMONY
San Francisco.
We are waiting for the transport ambulance to arrive.
“Everything is going to work out,” I say to myself, and the two women beside me.
My aunt squeezes my hand. “It really is, my love.”
Sheila is endlessly optimistic, which is a good thing considering her current challenges. She has Parkinson’s and Patsy is in a wheelchair. Selling the house and moving into sheltered housing just makes sense. Sheila and Patsy will have their own place, with nursing staff on site, and I will have...
“The cabin,” says Sheila, “you’ve got the keys, right?”
“Yep, and all the instructions.” I pat my jeans pocket. “And yes, I’ll call you from the roadandwhen I get there,” I tell her.
“I dread to think what state it is going to be in…” Patsy says for the billionth time. “It’s been years since we’ve been there.”
“It’s going to be perfect. I’m so excited,” I lie.
“And you’ll come and visit at Thanksgiving,” says Sheila.
“Yep. And we all know I won’t be lonely because…” I gesture to the crate beside me. A paw reaches out and tries to swipe my ankle.
The aunts adopted Einstein after a neighbor passed. As the cat is not exactly a ‘people-person’ (human-hater would be a better description), the aunts decided he’d be better off with me than at the care home.
Lucky me.
The transport pulls into the avenue. It’s time.
I watch the older women get loaded up, and wave until they disappear back over the hill. Now, it’s time for me to hit the road. I’ve got 500 miles to drive from San Francisco to central Oregon. Solo road trips are not in my wheelhouse,at all.
Well, nor is living in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, come to that.
Ah well.
“Einstein? You ready?”
I pick up the carrier, and he gives me the side-eye.
Neither of us are ready, but we have to go anyway.
HARMONY
Gold Creek, Central Oregon.
I’ve taken to country living exceedingly well, considering.
Considering how grueling it has been.
The first four weeks have been hectic. Inch-thick dust and insane cobwebs covering every surface were nothing compared to my run in with the raccoon family from the woodshed. The cabin had been almost completely encased in green vines when I arrived. The vines had even breached the windows and were wound around the kitchen cabinets.
Breaking through them, I’d felt like a prince heading toward Sleeping Beauty. Except this castle had a front door that doesn’t lock, a mouse infestation and several broken window panes.
I’d met a nice man in a hardware store who had told me the secret to mending anything was duct tape and WD40.
“If it sticks, try a squirt of WD40. If it breaks, try using duct tape.”
This amazing advice means I can now lock the front door, and the kitchen window is sort of boarded up.
