April Showers

This is a story I wrote down a year ago that I never got the chance to post. I figured since it’s April again, it would be an appropriate springy thing to share.

 

I can’t drive, and I don’t have buckets of money to pay for Lyfts everywhere I go, so generally whatever the weather is, my guide dog and I are out in it, getting where we need to go.  That is why, one April Saturday, Prim and I ventured out into the pouring rain to head to a friend’s recital at my old university.  Neither of us were excessively pleased about the damp; I shivered, and Prim did her best to avoid puddles as we set out on the mile walk.

We were standing at a street corner waiting for the light to change.  I was listening to the traffic on my right to know when it was safe to cross when, suddenly, a car approached quickly from my left and a massive wave of water struck us.  I squeaked and leapt back, shocked by the cold and completely soaked waist down.  Prim shook it off and we stepped back up to the curb to wait once more.

Not thirty seconds later, a truck came barreling through the intersection.  Before I could react, I was engulfed from head to toe in a six foot high tsunami of street water.  The frigid liquid left me breathless, and poor Prim was completely disgruntled.  I laughed ruefully and turned to go home, blinking away the water dripping into my eyes.  There was absolutely no way I could walk into a recital looking like I’d just fallen into a pool.

“Ma’am!” a voice called from a car at the gas station behind me.  I paused, glancing in his direction.

“Ma’am do you need help? I have a towel.” He approached and pushed a towel into my hands.

“Thank you.” I said, surprised.  I took the towel and mopped my face.  I was just going to believe it was a clean towel, and not something this friendly samaritan had just used to clean greasy hands after working on his engine or something.  I vainly tried to dry my clothes with the towel too, but only semi-successfully.  I was at least grateful to have dry face and arms.  As per my request, the man kindly helped me across the street.  I’ve probably asked someone to do that a grand total of two or three times in my life.  Contrary to popular belief, I don’t normally need help to cross the street, dog or no dog, but I was not in the mood to be hit by yet a third surge of rainwater.

Upon reaching the other side of the street, I expressed my appreciation to my benefactor, then was promptly dragged by my indignant dog to the nearest door.  I was planning on walking the rest of the way to the recital, but clearly Prim had other ideas, and she wasn’t afraid to tell me.  She absolutely refused to leave the shelter of the overhang in front of the business.  I was trying to reason with her when another voice called from a car in the street.

“Shea!”

It was a friend from college.  He offered a ride to our destination, and Prim and I gladly accepted.  We arrived just in time for the performance.  I sat through the whole thing shaking in my soaked clothes, and winced at the strong smell of wet dog radiating from my poor unhappy pup, but man am I glad we made it, and honestly, it was kind of an exhilarating experience.  Who says Nashville doesn’t have a good waterpark?

A Second Journey: Freezing Fridays and Saint Andrews Saturday

Friday was our day off for the week. I got up late (like 9:30!) and spent the day exploring Airdrie a bit with some of my team mates. We went to the grocery store, and had lunch at Greggs. Greg’s is a wonderful land of beautiful breads and flakey pastries. There is this incredible British invention called the “pasty” which involves a flakey pastry outside with a meat or other savory filling. Think pigs in the blanket, but completely enclosed, much more delicious inside, and puffier pastry. It’s also incredibly cheap, which suits we college kids on the mission team just fine. They also have a variety of sweet breads, so I got myself a chocolate donut in honor of national donut day back home in the states. Greg’s is always a good choice… always.
Anyway, we then wondered about the town, stopping in on a charity shop (thrift store), music store, and pet shop. I got to play a rosewood whistle, which was gorgeous, and tried to play a low D tin whistle, but discovered my hands are much too small. I could just barely manage a low G, but I’m afraid anything lower might be beyond my whistling capabilities. I also troubled the shop owner to tune one of his violins for me, and I tried to remember how to play that instrument, as it’s been probably years now since I’v touched my viola.
My favorite part was the pet store. My intention was to pop in to see if there was something I could get to bring back to Oleta, but I found myself spending 20 minutes petting the shop owner’s giant, fluffy, and awfully sweet bernese mountain dog. He nearly pushed me over he as leaning on me so, and I definitely just wanted to stay there and hug him all day. I did explain to the owner that I was going through serious dog withdrawal, and thankfully he understood. He even offered to get me a chair so that I could sit there and pet him all day. I’m not going to lie, I was legitimately tempted to take him up on it, but I restrained myself. Eventually, I managed to pull myself away, and actually took a look at the things on the shelves. The selection wasn’t vast, but there was a collection of collars, so I purchased a red tartan collar for Oleta. I wasn’t sure of the size, but the owner gave me his address and number, and said he would send a different size for free if it turned out not to fit when I got home. I think it will fit just fine, but that was very kind of him.
In the evening, a couple from the Airdrie church drove the team and some of the CY (youth group) to the final Edinburgh mission night. Peter discussed the elder brother from the story of the prodigal son, and tied all three of the characters together. He emphasized the elder brother’s pride, his hatred toward his younger brother, and the disrespect, even disdain he shows his father. His attitude drives a rift between himself and his family members, and we do not know whether he responds to his father’s plea for him to humble himself and return to the celebration for his younger brother’s salvation. We do know that if the elder brother were to repent and return to the family, the celebration surely would increase ten fold.
The service was followed up by tea, coffee, and biscuits (as usual in Edinburgh), until the team and CY headed back to the van. On the way back, we stopped at the Firth of Fourth for a walk on the beach, though Emma L and I mostly clung to each other and shivered, as it was absolutely freezing!
Saturday was similar to Friday in the whether, though a tad bit sunnier. It was our reformation tour through Saint Andrews. At the beach there, which we visited for lunch before starting the tour, the wind was blowing so strongly that I could recline in it without falling backward. The tide was also coming in quite quickly, which is why about 53 seconds after I found the edge of the water, I realized I was actually standing in about an inch of the stuff. Surprisingly, my feet did not get wet at all. Kudos to you, my dear old leather walking shoes.
Sand was another question all together. I had to dump it out of my shoes when I got home later, and the wind kicked it all up, which meant that as we attempted to return to the bus, our mouths and ears and hair and every other part of us was graced with a film of white grit. We are still finding sand everywhere.
Anyway, it was a wonderful tour, the details of which I may recount at a later date, as I really need to get y’all caught up so that we can talk about this week!