My dog goes crazy every time the doorbell rings. She runs through the house trying to get to the front door ahead of us. We have to hang onto her squirmy, wiggly body to keep her from running out the door in her over-excited state. I think she’s always hopeful that the grandkids are at the door, but she’s ecstatic to see the UPS man too.
A few days ago, I took the dog for a walk. We went out the back door, but after walking in the oppressive heat, I decided that we would just use the front door since it was closer. Of course, the front door was locked, and I rang the doorbell so that Harold would let us in.
As soon as I pressed the doorbell, the dog began her happy dance and looked eagerly at the door. When Harold came to the door, she shot through the door running amok in her eagerness. I’m pretty sure, she was wondering who the “company” was, never once realizing it was us.
When I was a kid, I remember a song “Company Comin’ up the Road.” We lived twenty miles from nowhere deep in the Ozark hills, and company was a rare occurrence.
Later, when I became a part of the Fisher family, it was a completely different situation. It was not unusual to have several different families converge on my in-laws’ house. Virginia was an amazing cook, and she could whip up a big meal on a moment’s notice. She always welcomed family and insisted they sit down at her table to eat the mouth-watering meal she prepared “such as it is.”
Family time wasn’t limited to weekends and holidays. Any night of the week might involve a spirited card game, a jam session, or coffee and conversation. Company comin’ was expected and an occasion to rejoice.
Times have changed, and so many of the family are gone now. Recently, Virginia’s baby brother Larry passed away, so one less smiling face will be at the reunion this year.
We lived next door to my in-laws for several years. I always enjoyed the company, but being a person who has to have quiet time, I would sometimes slip away for an hour or so and go to my house. Most people didn’t pay any attention to my comings and goings, but Larry would always smile and say, “You just had to get away for a while, didn’t you?” It was as if he was the one person who understood.
Another time after Jim developed dementia, Larry watched the interactions between Jim and me. “It must be awful hard thinking for two,” he said, having another insightful moment.
Life has gone full circle. Although, we don’t live twenty miles from nowhere, we don’t have a lot of company. Sometimes, the dog hears company comin’ up the driveway, but usually she doesn’t get too excited until the doorbell rings. Today, when she beat a well-worn path to the door, she was dancing with delight as she greeted the grandkids.
After playtime, she was exhausted and ready for a nap. After my busy, busy day, I was ready for a nap too.
Copyright © July 2017 by L.S. Fisher