Beer and Bikes and Boys. And Colleen.

Another fabulous day, Ms J. I began the day at 7:00 with an oatmeal breakfast followed by coffee al fresco. The morning air was cool and fresh and I welcomed the warm sun as it softly lit me and all my garden. The dew sparkled with delight and the song birds rejoiced. It was a beautiful morning. Soft and peaceful.

I rode my bike to church where I led the congregation in worship until Linda took over and delivered a moving sermon about “A Sense of Direction.” I listened and wished my son could discover his own sense of direction. I called him last night and arranged to take him out to lunch on Wednesday – just me and my boy. We’ll talk.

Colleen grabbed my arm after the service.

“When are you coming over to see my new fence and patio?” she asked.

“How about today?” I said. “How ‘bout now? How ‘bout I invite myself over for lunch?”

She laughed and her blue eyes twinkled.

“OK, then. It’s a deal. See you in a few minutes?”

So I pedaled over to Colleen’s house. She proudly showed me the fence she had built in her back yard. It was made of wood and trimmed with lattice on top. I was impressed!

“You did this by yourself, Colleen?” I asked.

“Yup,” she said and folded her arms across her chest. “All by myself.”

“I helped too, Mummy,” said a little voice from behind me.

Ivy is her name, Ms J. She’s six and as pretty as any child I’ve ever seen. Ivy’s eyes are green and large and gorgeous with long, dark lashes.

Colleen is 33 and divorced. She’s a beautiful soul. Her mum and dad are wonderful people too. Colleen and I sat on her patio and chatted over a glass of iced tea and when I next looked at my watch, it was half past four. I excused myself and came home.

Yeah, she’s a nice girl, that Colleen. I like her honesty. I find honesty very attractive. So why don’t I ask her out on a date? Well, we talked about that too. Not in those words, exactly, but we both stated how good Life is right now and how set we are in our ways, and how disinclined we both are to enter into a relationship that could enhance our Lives, but would, in all probability, complicate it. We’ll remain friends.

At home later, I was putting gas in my new lawnmower when I heard the clinking of beer bottles. I knew Nick couldn’t be far behind and sure enough, he’d arrived on a bicycle. He had four bottles of beer in a plastic bag. He was drunk.

“I’ve just left Ron’s,” he said. “Ron is drunk and so is his neighbour, Joe.”

“And so are you, by the look of it,” I said.

“Yup, I guess I am,” he said, staggering away from his bike, “but not as drunk as them other guys. Here. Want a beer?”

I took a beer from him, Ms J, not because I wanted it necessarily, but rather to keep him from drinking it. Clearly, he’d had enough.

We sat together on the deck and talked. Nick talked. I tried to listen. He talked about George Bush’s war and about government lies and corruption. I agreed with the essence of his rant, but much of it was rubbish. Finally, I’d had enough. I had to get him away from his beer.

“It’s a beautiful evening, Nick. Would you like to go for a ride along the waterfront?”

“Sure,” he said. That’s a great idea. Let’s go.”

So we did. We mounted our bikes and rode off into the gloaming. It was really enjoyable. We rode for two hours and when we returned, Nick was beginning to sober up.

“We should go over to the pub and get some wings,” he suggested as we approached his apartment building up the street from my home.

I knew it was beer he wanted, not chicken wings, and I declined his offer saying tomorrow morning would come early. He accepted that, but I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he went down to the pub alone after I left him.

A Sense of Direction. That’s what Nick lacks. Dan too. I can point out the way to them, even draw a map, but ultimately, they’ll need to find their own way. They’ll have to discover their own sense of direction.

I hope they find themselves before they lose themselves.

***