mosses monday XXXI...

after the fall that afflicted his back, mr. moss was never physically the same again. on the contrary, mentally he was as sharp as a tack!!! from that time forward he depended on his wheelchair and walker. these new dependencies, however, seemed to in no way limit him.

at the age of ninety, mosses had advanced parkinson's, arthritis, artificial hips and knees (as well as the bad back); yet, he continued to get up every morning and eat, bathe, shave, and clothe himself. if he had errands, jean took him to accomplish those. if not (and weather permitting), he ate breakfast and made his way out to work in his yard.

mosses was a farmer at heart.

~@~@~@~@~@~

he had a yard full of beautiful flowers and flowering trees. he even planted a small vegetable garden, which he hoed, sowed, weeded, and watered. many times during the summer i returned home to find a grocery bag full of tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce, corn, and later (in the early fall) turnips sitting on my back deck. he loved sharing his harvest.

mosses, full of heart, was a sharer.

~@~@~@~@~@~

like most farmers, i suppose, mosses used the colder months to rest. he spent most of his time running errands, watching cnn, and keeping up with the stock market. i never remember him complaining a whole lot about the cold so long as there was no ice involved. ice and snow brought his mobility to a halt...

usually.

one snowy sunday evening, jean called and asked me if i would mind to come over to the court and cut mosses' hair for him; she said he wanted john and katherine to come as well so that we could visit and enjoy drinks and snacks afterwards.

when we arrived, mosses, draped in a towel, was already sitting in his wheelchair in the middle of the kitchen floor awaiting his trim.

as i cut his hair, he thanked me over and over again and explained that his appointment with smitty (his barber) was supposed to be the next day but with the snow he knew he wouldn't be able to make it to the barber shop.

jean laughed and told mosses that smitty wasn't going to like that he had been replaced.

after she made that comment, a concerned look came across mosses' face. i finished his trim and cleaned him up and too the mess i had made. then we all enjoyed our drinks, popcorn, chex mix, bugles, and our time together talking and laughing.

around midday the next day, jean phoned me. "do you know what mr. moss did this morning?" she asked then continued... "he got up, got dressed, and told me to drive him to the barber shop."

"oh no, did he not like the cut i gave him?" i inquired.

"he liked it just fine; he just didn't want to hurt smitty's feelings by not showing up for his appointment..."

i giggled.

"smitty told mr. moss he didn't know why he had even gotten out in this weather... that his hair didn't even need to be cut. mr. moss just shrugged... never once letting on that his hair had already been cut."

mosses was a loyal gentleman, too:)

~@~@~@~@~@~

(to be continued...)

love and God's blessings,
dani xx

ps you will find earlier entries in ascending order on my side bar entitled, "our love story":)