A Partial Idiot

*** continued from previous post ***


We walked into the golden hues of the Lodge and made our way to the dining room.

There were couples scattered around the room - some laughing softly and others engaged in deep conversation. The valley was flowing with a river of mist, and we could see small dots in the distance, moose or deer - possibly poshly dressed hikers, the jury was still out - meandering about the far side. We took a seat at a table next to the windows, and settled into our chairs. The floating rhythm of the conversation, the warmth of the stone fireplace, the vastness of the misty mountains and the gleaming green of the meadow was exactly what I had in mind when I had booked this place lo those many weeks ago.

I reached over and squeezed your mom's hand. "Now how cool is this?"

Your mom returned the squeeze. "Pretty darned cool."

"Damn straight woman. See, this is going to be great. Soon the rain shall depart, we will be able to go for a short ride on the bike, and all will be well with the world."

"Um hmm . . .", Mom said, "or not."

"What?"

"Or not go for a ride. I think I'm finally beginning to unwind. For some strange reason sitting here in the lodge has a much stronger appeal than gearing up and climbing back on the bike for another fun-filled day in the rain."

I shook my head. "Wuss. And it will stop raining. Eventually."

"You can call me a 'wuss' all you want. As long as I'm dry."

Even though she had given me permission, and it was mighty tempting, I decided not to call her a wuss again. She was near cutlery. I'm not a complete idiot. A partial idiot, I'll grant you that, but not a complete one.

*** the journey continues ***