Care Package

The next night I went to an NA meeting, something I never did. A woman in her late 70s was leaning against the door to the church basement. She wore saggy jeans and a leather vest over an old gray T-shirt.  Faded tattoos that might have been demons, but looked like wrinkled pelicans, covered both forearms.

The day before Roger’s mom had called me at work to see how Roger was holding up.  “He don’t tell me nothin’,” she had said. I had agreed to meet her the next night.

“I think he’s OK with the divorce,” I said and told her why. She hung on every word. After all the years and all they’d been through, she cared for him every bit as much as she had when he was a baby.  In my mind I made a gratitude list of the people I cared about, who cared about me, and the bridges I hadn’t burned.

She smiled and crushed her cigarette against the no smoking sign.  “You can sit with me, but don’t get no funny ideas.  I don’t do married guys and you couldn’t handle the ride.”

“I’ll try to keep my hands to myself,” I said, laughing.

Today I’ll be grateful for people who never stop caring.

Dogged Determination ©2018 & 2019 by Ken Montrose

Dogged Determination is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.

Other works by Ken Montrose are available at: www.greenbriartraining.com https://www.pinterest.com/kenmontrose/mt-rose/