JanuFeb

Janufeb is what the NPR blatherer said. Cold. dismal. The street  for cars cleaner than the sideawlk that the 

wheelchair must traverse and the old folks shufffle extra slowly and  press the quadcanes down, or lean on their carts, happy for more traction. We can see the fat tub of lard maintenance man sitting in the library, reading the paper as we slip and slide to the bus.

B. is beautiful so handsome that I don't even see him, holding the door for me.  And the carts that were stuffed on the lift by my awful neighbors, he yanks off and whisks me on and banters.

Yea America is going to  blazes but he is ready for the rapture, so it doesn't matter what happens. When you take God out of it, this is what you get....

I hear him solemnly and hold his words as truth. Unlike the monster bibleclass lady, he carries

himself like a light of god. He endures the old folks with patience. When he removes his 

hat, his dark bald head gleams with fiercesome symmetry. He is impeccable in his casual

work clothes, neat layers.  

I don't know why today I see  how handsome he is. Maybe because I am leaving and know I will not ever see him again. I relish his kindness, as he whisks me through the snowdirty sidewalk

to the ramp, and from the bus into the store, and then, when home, off the bus into the building. A thrill a ride a kindness....

While onlin in the supermarket Y. the  incessant gabber says, gee if i ahdnt unpacked my stuff i would let you in front of me..... gee you could still squeeze in, do you want to get in front of me?

She buys tons of stuff as if for four people. How she and the fat man and the three cats fit in a space i alone find too small is not something i contemplate.... i know the benefits of two feet, of verticality...

I tell her " You always get in the wheelchair aisle"

She is stunned as if i smacked her or cursed her.

I did  but not with words.

I called her bluff.

She didn't need to offer to let me in front, she just needed to not be in that aisle.

So she spent all her time quizzing the checkout lady about the wheelchair aisle.

When I got to check out I told the checkout lady  that the woman was my neighbor and that 

if she were any shopper, sure, she could enter the empty aisle, but since she came with me on the same bus and there -- see the bus was here to pick us up, that she 

was just wrong to  jump in the wheelchair aisle with ten tons of stuff...

 the checkout lady didn't quite get it, but I didn't press it.... but the man behind me did and helped her pack my bag on the back of my chair.

I thanked them both.

Y. yakked loudly and nervously asking B. does it distract you to talk when you're driving?

and told stories about peeing in Italy because R. had to get off the bus and go back in the store to pee.

But as I wrote, this will end with B. making my return home, fun, I will get a ride, a thrill, he will almost mow down my slow neighbors and spin me around in front of the elevators

and smile and wait for me to look up into his handsome face and thank him, bless him and wish him godspeed