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December 16, 2005
when good ideas turn sad
The Bean calls construction and highway workers his buddies because at our old house in Seattle, there was some construction going on across the street. Every morning we would wave to the guys working and they would say “Hey, buddy!” to my son. This made quite an impression.
Now, there’s a bridge that we drive over every day on the way to and from the Bean's daycare where they are building a new bridge right next to it. It's pretty much buddy central, which gives us something to focus on other than the fact we are about to drop the Bean off into the sham that is our current childcare situation.
Most days, the buddies are there even when it is bitter cold. If they aren't there, the Bean knows where they are! They are home eating onion soup and salad with their mommies and daddies. The imagined lives of his buddies are quite vibrant, filled with hot meals and love.
In the spirit of festivus, I've been all "Let's make cookies for your buddies! We're going to bring cookies to your buddies for a present!" Finally last night, my husband made some delicious butterscotch and oatmeal cookies. I boxed a bunch of those up along with the lame slice-and-bake sugar ones that Bean and I had made the night before and we drove off this morning to present them.
I pictured the two of us walking into the trailer where there was likely a project foreman and handing the cookies to him. I even brought my camera, thinking it would be a good photo op to get a picture of the Bean with one of his hard-working buddies.
It was pouring rain this morning and at first it didn't look like anyone was around the construction site. Then I spotted a buddy, full safety-orange construction raingear on, walking just off the road. I pulled in behind him and gave a "toot toot!" of my horn. He spun around and squinted at me through the rain like a feral dog. I waved through the windshield: It’s just me! I was freshly showered, I had lipstick on*! And cookies! He came loping toward the car as I lowered the window.
His face was leather-thick and weatherworn, though he couldn’t have been much older than me. His teeth were broken or missing and his lips were split from the cold. He leaned into the car and continued to squint at me then back at the Bean in his car seat while I chirped on about holidays and toddlers and buddies and yum! Cookies!
As I reached across the passenger seat to hand him the box, our hands touched briefly. It was like brushing your fingers across pumice. He took a last slow, puzzled look at me and in his bloodshot eyes there grew a small spark. Finally he said “Are you that girl I been talking to on the computer?”
Happy holidays, buddies. May there be warm soup in all of your homes.
* This is a big deal at 8:30 am for someone who works from home.
Posted by Max at December 16, 2005 12:09 PM