That’s me. I fix things. Not leaky pipes or broken carburetors, but bad moods and distress. That stuff takes the fun out of everything and replaces it with despair. No one deserves that. So I remain alert in an effort to keep everyone happy.
There’s really no off-season in this business, it’s round-the-clock work. I’m on duty 24 / 7. Every day delivers what Dorothy Parker called a ‘fresh Hell’ to someone somewhere. This typically ranges from the petty (a run in your stocking) to the catastrophic (heartbreak, loss, et al).
And when that sh*t happens in my little world, I am the bringer of sunshine. Or I try to be.
Let me give you an example. The other day as we were walking, the dog and I took a break in the shade beside a fountain. It was cooler, there was water splashing, so we parked ourselves in this paradise and I played with my phone until I grew bored. Then I put the phone down and turned to the water.
There, before my eyes, a drama was unfolding. A bug was drowning, a beetle of some kind. He was capsized, rocking on his back, tiny legs churning and clawing. He struggled fearsomely. I reached in, scooped him up, and set him on the bench. He laid still and unmoving, I gently righted him and stepped back to give him some room and privacy, hoping he was only gathering his strength, collecting himself.
As I waited and hoped, I berated myself for not knowing the CPR protocol for insects. Is there such a thing? Can bugs be resuscitated? I looked at the dog, the dog looked at me, we both looked at the bug. He hadn’t moved. My head dropped to my chest; I’d tried. The dog and I moved off, circled around to the other side of the fountain and sat in silence. After a few minutes, we rose to pay our final respects and he was gone. The bug had flown away. He’s alive and well somewhere and my heart soared.
Even though this is a volunteer position, the benefits are amazing.
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