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
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