Special Needs

The husband called. It was about noon. One of the last days of summer.
Just following training for educating those with special needs and/or behavior issues. We're breaking for lunch.

He shares good news.  The Museum called.  Wanted me to be sure to attend the exhibit reception.

Another affirmation the work on the front line offers reward.

It's an image of a dog.  Inspiration from a morning walk.  All seasons offering different views on a shadow walker.

The joy overbears the anticipation to get home for celebrating.  Wind, rain and traffic test the safe journey.

Do I keep it a secret?

A smile welcomes me.  The family on the couch with the remote.  Scanning the limited choices of aerial broad cast of a stormy day.  Winds shut out power. Come and go all day.  We relish in the safety of being home safe.

The Birds wait.  They're on the agenda.  Pet sitting commitment.  Evening feeding in the country for helping a colleague.  Drive the route in the wind and rain.  Arrive 45 minutes later.

The key doesn't work.  I circle the house checking all doors and garage windows for some hope. Stand the plants up on the deck.
Don't want to call but there's no option.  Leave an incomplete message to hear a ring.  Hold and answer or end call and answer?  Opt for the latter.

"The Key doesn't work, I've tried all doors!  Give it a minute to talk it out to get back to me."

The phone rings while back in the car dodging rain.  Killer dragonfly tries to escape captivity.

Is that a stinger? The dash hasn't seen a dusting like it before.

I get the go ahead.  Pop the door.  I'm in.  The key doesn't work.  I call again.  Want to help, but loosing faith.

Look around.  Find some tools.  There's the basement and the garage access, but not inside yet.
Right tools, brute force then I'm in.

Is there a cam?

I call again, laugh it off.  Swear to confidentiality!  Get the job done.  Find a working key and close up.  Lights out all is sound.

Drive away.  Miles of tested visibility.  There's a road block.  Blue and reds flashing.  Yellow trench coat has no approach to warn.  Step into the street in the rain.  Search for a pinspot on map and ask best route through.  Remark on the tree in flames along the wires.

The gas tank is empty.  Light's been on for miles.  Memory anticipates a station with each heartbeat.  Exhaling at the pump.

The husband calls.  More than two hours later.  I can't talk.  There's a stray holding up traffic.  He/she's lost.  Disheveled coat soaking wet.  Trotting leading a line of traffic.  Looking left and right in panic.  I pass thinking I might have helped. Take another deep breath.

The moment feels like an hour.  Time that could not be measured.

Arrive home to the trio on the couch.  Wake all from a nap.  The cat nose to nose with the beast.
My inspiration and love, a Shadow Walker.