The Hour Glass


This morning I woke from dreams to a flock of Canadian Geese that gets larger day by day as they gather for a trip either south or to Prairie Rose a state park not far from here for the winter. Tim has left for work, he's now an integral part of a small roofing company in Atlantic, a larger town he says it takes him 25 minutes to drive to. There he works with a team of men who are 30, 40, 50 and his near 60 years old.

Our own roofing business was such good experience for this new job of his, he was always nicer to our employees than I was and everybody always worked together so well. Such a hard and decent job, hard labor. No one respects that sort of thing anymore, especially in big towns.

When we first moved here we lived outside of Avoca, once we were eating at a restaurant in town with friends and some young men all stood up and shook his hand when he was introduced as a retired roofing contractor from California. He said, except for my son Ian even his kids never showed him respect like that.

The view of the Nishna Botna River valley was lovely from that house near Avoca and the geese flew so near the ground you thought you'd touch their feet if you reached up at the right time. In the early spring snow geese covered the hill sides there. It was amazing.

Now it's 6 am, still dark and breezy in the house, we leave doors and windows open, listening to cricket, frog and toad in the night, geese overhead when it's almost morning. In the spring we can hear flocks of songbirds overheard in the darkness. Something never heard in our busy neighborhood in California.

Tim is long gone, carrying the lunch I made with him, the red eye of the coffee pot greets me in the cool kitchen. The cats have been walking across my body in the bed, their plates of food on the counter. Rangers' long body stretched out in the cool morning, Pepper snoring beneath the bed. Everyone has been rescued from somewhere, something.

We are down to 3 cats and 2 dogs over the years since moving from California. Tim begs no more when I eye the soft cuddly, needy ones. He's right of course, when their lives are over it's like losing a child.

I am hopeful this new job will be Tim's rescue, he's been getting pretty bored since leaving his job in Omaha. It's difficult fitting into the Midwest landscape, people here are different, yes they are. As winter comes along and his hours are shortened at the roofing company (because of snow not lack of work) I'll invite him on my trips around town visiting the shut ins, delivering meals; one of my rescues.