28 Apr

We pulled into a rest stop. I went to the bathroom. There was a sign above the sinks: DO NOT WASH HAIR IN SINKS. I grabbed a free cup of coffee and told the woman in the Travel Center that I’d never seen a sign like that at a rest stop. “Migrants come in the middle of the night,” she said. “Clog up the sinks.”

I wondered if that sign would deter them. I went back to the car to wait for Connie. We were on our way to Grants Pass, to be with our nephew during his surgery. I stood on the sidewalk, stretching. A disheveled young worker came by, pulling full plastic garbage bags out of cans. I greeted him, asked him how he was doing. “Not bad. Cut my friggin’ finger, though.” He held up the sliced digit.

“Want a band-aid?”

“Sure, that would be great.”

I opened the trunk and found the first aid kit, pulled out a tube of antibiotic ointment and handed it to him.

After he left, I noticed that the woman parked beside us, who had been messing around in her back seat as we pulled up, had dropped a white, electronic cord on the ground. It had fallen under her car. I wondered if she would notice. I picked it up and draped it through the driver’s door handle.

I wondered at all these opportunities to help ease people’s journeys through life, in large ways and small. I thought of the help you were giving us, not something huge, but significant nonetheless. I thought of all my other friends who had contributed to my life. I had a sense of deep rightness as we continued our journey.

[My novel, Two-Headed Dog, is available on Amazon for $3.95]    


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