DICK

Dick is my eighty-eight-year-old neighbor.

Virtually every morning these days, we walk our dogs and cross paths and talk, although this was not always the case.

I am fairly confident that he does not know my name.

He tells me stories of the fire department; he used to be a volunteer firefighter in Aspen.

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I almost ran him over once, in a hurry trying to get the kids to school on time, fighting tooth and nail with them and my patience had ran out. I did not see him walking his dog in the rearview. He stared me down, even though I apologized, and I thought: Fuck You, Old Man.

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He always has treats for my dogs in his pocket as we pass by. My Border Collie will bark at every neighbor and their dogs, save for Dick. For him, she whimpers to say: Hello.

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One morning, Dick told me that his wife had passed in the night. Although the delivery of his words was Stoic, I remember a tear forming in his eye. Whatever I said in response, I am sure that it wasn’t what I truly wanted to say. I am not great in the Moment. I hope he forgave me for that.

About a month following, he said he was going to visit his sister-in-law in Arizona. He had to cancel those plans, because she died too.

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Dick stayed inside during COVID, as the elderly population was instructed. I did not see him much. My new puppy, Astra, a mut from the pound would wait at the edge of the electric fence, and he would talk to her as he walked by. She would bark at everyone else. He loved Astra. They talked more than Dick and I did over that time.

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One morning, while mowing my yard, I mustered up the courage to finally talk to him. As I approached, knowing the conversation that was about to unfold, my emotions that had been held back for weeks finally broke free to the surface. I told him that I left Astra in the back of my truck, and she was dead. I told him that I had been avoiding him because I knew she was his friend. I apologized to him for my Sin. He assured me that I should not beat myself up, that it would do no good. He told me to get another one, soon, and he gave me a hug. Looking back, I should have acted similarly to him when he told me about his wife. I am selfish like that.

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Everything changed after the new dogs arrived. 

We began to talk daily, discussing world events and local problems with each other.

Now he waits for me in the mornings and mid-afternoons, chatting about scholarships given out to the candidates at the Elk Lodge, repeating some of the same lines from yesterday. Many times, the stories are the same from the week prior. I do my best.

I notice that his body is slowly fading away, muscle mass disappearing from the bones. 

I hope that he thinks of me highly, or at least I provide him with some positivity some days.

Dick has an iris garden in his backyard. He gave me a couple to plant in my yard. The garden he maintained for his wife.

The irises in my yard will be forever be for him.