The Restless Kind

    I had paced the kitchen and living room until the cats and the dog had retreated to the safety of the bedroom at the other end of the trailer. They will tolerate only so many stepped-on tails and paws.
    It was raining, back and forth showers that were irritating. Too heavy at times to do anything outside. When that stopped, the yard was soaked, so even with a light sprinkle coming down outdoors was messy.
    I didn’t want to stay inside – it was starting to suffocate me. I had plenty of housework to do but no desire to do it. There wasn’t anything going on in town that I was interested in. Driving wasn’t even appealing at this point – I’d rather drive two hours in a downpour than thirty minutes in intermittent showers.
    Damn! I needed to burn off this restless mood.
    Hell with it all I decided. I pulled on my Dingos, donned my Levi jacket, grabbed essentials such as phone and truck keys, and stepped outside just as the clouds decided to release the heaviest bout of rain there had been all day. Drenched by the time I got in the truck, I was thankful the F150 had heated seats; perchance that would dry my clothes a little.
    As the fan blew warm air around the truck cab, I pulled to the end of the driveway and stopped. I ignored the swishing wipers and surveyed the road in both directions. No traffic, as I expected mid-morning on a wet Thursday.
    Decision time. East or west? East was a shorter drive to something to do. West offered more options. The weather made my decision – the downpour came to an abrupt halt. East – I wouldn’t have to drive as long in back and forth rain.

    An hour later, I’m in a bar, the jukebox loaded with Travis interspersed with Dwight. The ribs are tasty and tender, the clientele is sedate, and that shot of Maker’s is easing my mood.
    I’ve been reading texts on my phone so am surprised when I hear, “May I join you?”
    I look up to see a young man standing by the table. My grandson is probably older.
    “Why would you want to do that?” I ask. My restlessness adds to my normal bluntness.
    “I’m new here and wanted a quiet conversation today,” he replies, evidently not put off by my bluntness, “and you look like you could use some company.”
    I study him. Tall, dark and handsome, and a Sam Elliott voice. Why not?
    “Have a seat,” I tell him.
    Instead of taking a seat across the table from me, he unexpectedly sits beside me. We introduce ourselves. His name is Marcus and he is working on the gas pipeline being run across this county. A few minutes later, after some light conversation, I put his age at least twenty years older than my grandson. Hmmm . . .

    “Where are you from originally?” I ask and am not surprised to learn he is a military brat and never lost the wanderlust that frequent moves can instill. He wanted more flexibility to move from place to place as he chose, so opted for construction work of any kind instead of a military career.
    I tell him I’m nowhere as traveled as he is – I do all my traveling in daydreams. He grins and asks what I am doing for the rest of the day.
    I am not sure how to answer that. Since I hadn’t planned on anything past a good lunch, I tell him, “Killing time.”
    “Sounds like a plan,” he says. “If it wasn’t raining I’d be working. What would you be doing if it wasn’t raining?”
    “Today, I would have been doing yard work. If the rain was more consistent, I’d be driving.”
    “Driving?” he asks, sounding puzzled. “Where to?”
    “Wherever the road goes,” I tell him. I can tell he doesn’t fully understand, so I explain that I am a widow and my husband and I drove around aimlessly on back roads, just seeing what there was to be seen. I do realize that wanderlust may seem aimless, but it tends to cover more miles in a day than Liam and I did.
    “I’m sorry you  lost your husband,” he softly says. He takes a sip of his Coke before speaking again.
    “Would you like to take a drive with me this afternoon?”
    “If I do the driving,” I reply. “We won’t take back roads as I’m not in my ride-around vehicle, but I do know a nice drive with pretty scenery.”
    “Ride-around vehicle?” Marcus asks. I explain the difference in my 2003 Explorer and 2020 F150 when it comes to ‘riding around’. He laughs at that and tells me, “Madam, drive me wherever your heart desires.”

    Perhaps our restless hearts will complement each other.