I've known Chris forever... like 35 years or so. His folks ran a peony farm in Northfield where Chris did all the planting and tending of acres of plants. People came from all over the country to see the place and, if they were lucky, listen as he shared his vast knowledge of the multitude of species they sold. I could count on a call from him every spring to hurry over because the peonies were in full bloom.
When Dad, the State Botanist for years, died, Chris and Mom tried to keep the farm going, but just didn't have the wherewith all to do so and it had to be sold, which broke both their hearts. Then Mom ended up in the nursing home. She still has her wits about her most of the time, but is fading physically.
Now in his late Fifties, Chris is penniless and, other than his expertise around both wild and cultivated plants, has few practical skills or knowledge of how the day to day world works.
His bro, who has been managing what's left of the estate, is not well. Cash needed for the mortgage and taxes on the house Chris lives in (according to my Ex, a tear down) all but gone. Last winter it took months for me to convince him to apply for SNAP. Lord knows what it is going to take to get him to agree to get him into housing.
Every two weeks, or so, we have what I call a Chris Day when I drive over the mountain to Northfield and take him to visit his Mom. While they chat, my pup, Kobi, and I make the rounds visiting other residents. It is worth the price of admission to see the expression of a person in a wheel chair who seems totally out it, but catches a glimpse of Kobi and reaches down with almost childlike delight to pat him. Sometimes this opens the gate to memories about pets they had growing up. I've had some awesome conversations with people who have so much to offer and so few who will listen.
We usually stay for an hour or so before heading back to my apartment for lunch and a good chat while Chris does his laundry before we go grocery shopping and head back to Northfield. Last week it got a tad complicated because Chris's bike needed a new tire and the seat was falling off, so we dropped it at the bike shop before heading over to see Mom and then picked it up at the end of the day.
Knowing how much that small sense of freedom and independance means to him, watching Chris hop on that bike and speed off up the hill, just made me smile. We dropped the groceries off on his front stoop and headed home, tired but content.
Had a long list of to-do's for today, but barely scratched it. With memories of our tough winter still fresh, Kobi and I really needed some sunshine, fresh air and mountain views, so took our bods up to the bike path. Kobi took a swim in the little brook and then kept wanting to stop and roll in the grass. I told him to stop being so damned happy as it was depressing me and he laughed in my face!