Bought a Truck

Bought a truck from a gentleman today, white GMC Sierra 1500. Work truck. His wife of 34 years is in the last stages of lung cancer and has already lived well beyond her doctor’s predictions. He was in ill health himself, busted up from 50 years in construction, falling off ladders, lifting more than his back was ever designed for. I went over early to help unload a lifetime of tools from the truck and toolbox. Drills, ladders, levels, sanders: it all had to come out. We unloaded it onto his apartment deck where she sat in the morning sun, reading a book.

They offered me coffee and we sat together on the deck. I asked her what she was reading.

She laughed and said, “Anything anyone brings me, but I like thrillers and mysteries, the bloodier the better. Nothing too sweet or sugar-coated.”

“Reading’s really all I can do anymore,” she said. “Can’t walk, can’t work, can barely get to the bathroom.”

We talked about her grandson, off at college freshman year. He liked to fish and they’d given him their bass boat. The gentleman was attentive the whole time, back and forth to the kitchen with his cane, filling coffee cups and the silent spaces with thoughts of his own. A lovely couple nearing the end of this road.

We did the paperwork and I handed over the money in an envelope. Nobody bothered to count it.

“What’re you going to do with that money?” I asked. “Head down to Mexico?”

“I wish,” she said. “Would love more than anything to be sitting on a beach.” “That was always one of our favorite things, being at the beach. Maybe getting in some surf fishing. Just stick the rod in the sand and sit back, watching it, watching the water…”

She pointed at her mouth, then at him. “Actually, he’s gotta get his teeth fixed,” she said. “Lost his insurance and hasn’t been to the dentist in twenty years. That’s where the money’s going.”

A pause.

“Think if I knew then what I know now I would have spent a lot more time at the beach, reading, and fishing.”

We sat for a while with our small talk and laughter. But conversation slowed, the day was warming and my hosts were tired. I said my goodbyes and started the truck.

Before I was out of the complex I pulled over for a moment, made some notes. Then drove slowly up the hill, a fresh light of gratitude shining on my Monday. Like somehow I had been in the presence of God, talking books, bass boats, and beaches…