Some days don’t go the way I anticipate. Worst case scenario is when tragedy strikes and I am sideswiped, or as my friend describes it, “feeling like a tidal wave has dumped me on a foreign beach”.
In case you’re tempted to click to a happier blog post at this point, I’m thankful to report no tragedies here today.
A few days before Christmas we began our housesitting gig on Pender Island. We arrived a couple of days before the owners left so as to acquaint ourselves with the pets, the property and the staff. For dinner George cooked up a gourmet vegetarian spaghetti sauce with mostly organic produce from the farm (and gluten free pasta) and Kelly invited her brother, whom we had met earlier that day.
When I was introduced to Bruce I thought for certain that I had met him before. Yes, his face had a familiarity but not the kind that pulled me into my neurological filing system for quick (and hopeful) identity but the kind that pulled in an emotional direction. There was this sense of concern for his well-being and I felt myself wanting to ask, “Is everything okay with you now?” It took me all afternoon to peg where those feelings were coming from.
Later, at dinner, I explained my process to Bruce he asked, “The Sweet Hereafter”?
“No, Star Trek”, I returned and we all laughed.
I felt quite relieved that he didn’t really live through terrorist alien torture and wondered at the ability of industry, specifically the film industry, to play with my emotions so profoundly. I am also surprised at myself for buying in so completely.
We said goodnight and Bruce kissed me on the cheek as if to say, thanks for caring.
Could I have foreseen the end of that day? Not in a million years.
