Yesterday began on a positive note. A girlfriend that I graduated with surprised me with a phone call. We do not often call each other, but we see each other at least every summer and send Christmas cards.

She offered condolences, then we began to reminisce. The reason for the call: we went with two boys and two teachers to NYC to a convention for our yearbook over St. Patrick’s Day when we were juniors in high school. We had a lot of fun on that trip. Neither of us remember the time spent at the college, but we both remembered our experiences.

I recalled being put into a waiting room that was about the size of a broom closet, complete with the brooms, while they found us tickets to sit together at a play. I also remembered the guy who sat next to me asking if I went to Brown – Brown University. I guess that was a compliment. I recalled going to dinner in this fancy restaurant. I had no idea what some of the things on the menu were. I settled for a sirloin patty – that was about the only thing I could afford.

Our conversation finished, we said good-by and vowed to meet again, maybe over the summer at her cottage.

There were errands to run that I had been putting off for a while. Since the day was sunny and mild, I decided this was the day to do them. I loaded shoes and clothes into the car – things that belonged to my husband. I sure hope that someone who needs them gets them.

Then, it was on to the gas pumps. My total was not too bad. I filled the tank, but it only took just over seven gallons. I do not travel much these days.

My next stop was for groceries. I met a lady who I had not seen for a long time. She used to live up this way but moved to Warren. She sent me a sympathy card. I thanked her for the card and her personal message. We talked a little while then parted.

I found most of the things I wanted at the store. It seems funny to go to the store and not be able to find things. That is the way it is these days. Our supply chain has been disrupted.

On to the car wash. Since before Don and I married we had been going to the car wash together. He was the driver when we washed vehicles. Finally, I pulled up to the machine to make my payment. I intended to pay cash so I pushed that icon on the screen that came up. Nothing happened. I tried some thing else, but that did not work either. I finally picked up my phone and dialed the number that was on the sign. I explained my dilemma and a girl appeared to help me. By then I was in tears (I held it together until the girl left). It seems that whatever I do goes wrong without Don by my side. I had washed my car before we got married, but I guess they must have changed the machine.

That brought memories of when Dick died. So many things happened that first year that I became frustrated. It seemed like I could not do anything right. Eventually, things calmed down and life went on.

I think that I got excited when things did not work. That upset me and then I was lost. On to the post office. Don had a post office box. I had been getting his mail for quite a while. Toward the end he just could not get up enough energy to get his own mail. I used the combination the lady gave me last week. It seemed so easy when she was beside me. No matter what I did I could not get the little door open. Just another thing that I was unable to do. That again brought tears.

I suppose I will keep finding things that I am unable to do on my own. Eventually, things will settle down and I will be able to function again. For now, I will stick to the things that I know I can do.

I can cook. I can bake. I can clean. I can go to our church’s pancake supper. It will be a bittersweet night for me. Don and I worked it together for a couple years. Now I am once again on my own.

P.S. The Akeley Pancake Supper is this Saturday, March 26, at the church from 4:30 – 7:00 p.m. They will be serving pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausage, homemade applesauce, and beverages. It is always a social event with people coming from near and far for the fellowship. The price of the dinner is by donation. Hope to see you there!

Ann Swanson writes from her home in Russell, Pa. Contact at hickoryheights1@verizon.net.