Here I am, 64 years old. Happily, the "old" word does not seem to apply to me. Until it does. But today, I am simply reflecting on the past week's goings-on:
I have said my final goodbyes to the place which has been our home for twenty-two years.
Saturday last we two, that Spouse o'Mine and I, awakened and ventured into the kitchen for coffee and pre-dawn/sunrise. Coffee made, I moved into my Morning Chair and began reading news and playing NY Times Games.
But, wait.
A message came up on my phone:
"I see a cat on your porch; are you still here?"
From our dear friend and rancher neighbor!! Of course we wanted to see her - even at 6:00-ish am!!! And so the three of us met outdoors, drank our morning coffee, shared great memories, and then said our incredibly difficult goodbyes. What a treat to be remembered upon wakening, by a dear friend and neighbor.
I had mentally prepared to sedate our two cats for our two-day drive from Kansas to Ohio. That Spouse o' Mine was heading out for his weekly Saturday Pancake Ride (cycling 38 miles), and so I planned to leave once he returned from his ride. Off he went to meet his peloton. About an half-hour later, the peloton passed by our house (a weekly event!), and there were cyclists' fists raised, and a chant of "Don't go! Don't go!" directed towards me, as I did the final packing of my station wagon. I called back, like a Munchkin from the Wizard of Oz, "Goodbye! Goodbye!"
A pickup drove past a little later, and honked. I waved my goodbye to a great neighbor and friend.
That Spouse o' Mine reappeared on his bike a couple of hours later.
My car was packed, and I had just sedated our two kitties. Our vet had instructed that this sedative would kick in within an hour. So, I tried to time my goings for such. But as I said hello to my returning cyclist, I noted that Julia Kitty was listing and swaying as if she were already on a boat on Lake Erie (our destination). I turned to kitty Sister Monica Joan, and she was zoning out in complete bliss. This was fifteen minutes into the medication. I HIGHLY recommend whatever it was I gave those two (something that dissolved in seconds in their saliva: not pill-tossing needed.)
I moved the kitties quickly into their travel crates (they are large crates, by the way.), and called out to That Spouse p' Mine that the cats were loaded, and I was off.
Minutes, nay, seconds later, our dear neighbors from across the road came over for final goodbyes, and a parting gift of AMAZING fresh eggs from their chickens. Such a gift, such a gift; urban folks have no clue as to the joy of collecting one's own eggs each day, in a rainbow of colors and sizes. Such a secret delight of all us rural folk.
And so, I kissed that Spouse o' Mine goodbye, knowing that I would see him in the next week or so. I took a slow drive around our teeny tiny little Wabaunsee, Kansas, as a final goodbye. It was not teary, but it was POWERFUL. SO many memories of so many friends, experiences, lives, some deaths, lots of gatherings, and so many friendships. My wish is that everyone can experience even a bit of the richness of our life in our close community.
And so I drove out of Wabaunsee, Kansas, with two cats already hazy to reality. I came to the intersection of Highway K18 and Highway 99, where there is a stop sign. I stopped.
A blue pickup approached, and began his turn onto "my" Highway: K18.
I rolled down my window, threw my arm out, and waved, "Goodbye! Goodbye!"
It was a dear friend, professor from K-State and Cowboy Poet from our own rural neck of the woods, Tim Keane. He waved, and I waved,
Such a good morning, 'twas, 'twas.
Goodbye, Kansas.
