Tuesday, May 4, 2010

A Life Interrupted
I was looking after my neighbour's animals this week. Her husband died a few months ago and I have not been to their farm since his passing. A misplaced house key prompted me to initiate a major search of the out buildings and garage to see if she had another stashed some place. In the process of rooting around I came across signs of Verne. A soiled baseball cap lay in the dust on his workbench, an oily fingerprint outlined on the sweaty brim. Tools lay scattered, old manuals their pages curled up. An upturned coffee mug. In the old chicken shed shelves held some unusable electronics dating back 20 years or more alongside seasonal decorations. At his passing, Verne was a husband, father, brother and friend. Although we were only acquaintances, we were neighbours and neighbours look out for each other – at least on our country road.
The whole time I’m searching, Holly, the little dachshund Verne gave his wife many years before, raced around the yard with the pure joy and enthusiasm of being out in the sunshine and fresh air. When I gave them this photo of the intrepid Holly, Johnnie told me that Verne had a "real good laugh". That I will remember.