A Ride through Memories
Coming back from the city, the traffic was very snarled. Being in an Access A Ride car did not help matters. It is like a glorified bus. It creeps slowly through the streets of Manhattan. The streets are crowded with Christmas shoppers. They weave in and out though the crawling cars. There was another couple and myself in the car. I had boarded first and was seated in the back. The wife sat on the other side of me. Her husband sat in front beside the driver. For those of you who do not know what Access A Ride is, it is a service provided to people who are handicapped. For people like me, who use a cane, it would be a car or an SUV. For people in wheelchairs, a special van is provided that accommodates the equipments and lifts the person up to the van.
As l was saying, the traffic was heavy. Thanksgiving is soon upon us. Christmas follows. The stores have started their sales early hoping for a profitable season.
The driver had his radio station was tuned to Christmas carols. The woman sitting next to me was humming along with them. As we inched slowly through the streets of Manhattan, there was nothing to do except chat aimiably amongst ourselves. The taxi driver was telling us that he was studying to become a male nurse. It was a four year course. He supported himself by working for the hospital and driving on the weekends for Access A Ride. The lady was telling us about their visit to her daughter and her husband. It was her son in law’s sixtieth birthday. She then produced a magazine to show me that another of her sons in law, an attorney, was on the cover of. She seemed so proud of all of her family. She chatted on and on, about her daughters and their husbands. I like to do the same, except my kids threaten not to tell me anything if l do. They claim l embarrass them when l do. Instead, l talk about Peter. He never stopped me and listened to me with a little smile on his face. So, of course l spoke about him. “He spoiled you,” she commented with a hint of envy in her voice. “Yes, he did,” I replied, complacently. Her husband, sitting in the front seat was oblivious to all that was said. It was a long trip. It took two hours of creeping through that traffic to get to our destination. He fell asleep and was gently snoring. As time passed his snores were getting louder and louder. We ignored them, but his wife was getting embarrassed. “Alix, Alix, cheri!” she murmured as she gently bent over and tapped him on the shoulder. I smiled a wide smile to myself.
Years ago Peter and l had an appointment with a doctor. It was winter afternoon and snowing. It was cold. Our doctors were all in Glen Cove. They had been handpicked by my uncle who was head of the ENT department at Glen Cove Hospital. As we entered that particular doctor’s office, we noticed that it was full. Peter, being the happy man that he always was, sat on a chair, made himself comfortable, stretched his legs front of him and smiled at everyone in general. The room was quite warm. Everyone seemed to be put out since it was obvious we were in for a long wait.
This particular doctor was quite caring. He would ask about the family and if everyone was fine. He would tell you about his family. He would make you feel at ease before he got to the main issue. He was the kind of doctor who called you at home to make sure you were alright, if there was a problem. We loved him and had been going to him for years. On that day, I do not think he realized how many patients he had in his waiting room that afternoon. The turnover of the patients was very slow.
To Peter it did not matter. He was going to make the best of the situation. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes and soon he was fast asleep. Now Peter had a great snore. It would start out gently and rise to a crescendo, become gentle and again and once more rise to a crescendo. So on and so forth. I was used to him doing that. It did not bother me. I remember thinking that the poor dear had a busy morning at Court and needed a bit of a nap. However, there was a woman sitting opposite us who was getting extremely annoyed. She looked at him with disapproval, then looked at me as if to say, ‘well, are you going to do something?’ I ignored her and continued to leaf through the magazine in my lap. Finally, in a very loud voice, she asked me, accusingly, “Is he yours?” All heads turned. Proudly l answered, “Yes!” At the sound of her voice, Peter woke, sat straight and smiled his beautiful smile. Oh Peter, there never was a man as sweet and gentle as you. I miss you so much.
I mentally shook my head and came back to the future. Ah! As I was deep in my reveries, remembering Peter, we had left the heavy traffic of the city. We were almost at our destination. I breathed a mental sign of relief. The radio was still playing Christmas carols. The lady was quietly chatting to the driver. Her husband was still gently snoring. I sat up straight and gathered my belongings together. I’m was almost home. I imagined the cup of tea I would soon be drinking as I relaxed from my day’s outing. It’s nice to go out, but oh so pleasant to come back home after a long day away…