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(Oceanangel, it's awfully nice to see another new poster here!)
I am drinking the fourth of the five (light) beers I had in my house. And, well, here's part of an email that I sent to my husband about an hour ago, to share with his sister, Dorothy (whom he's visiting thousands of miles away):
Hi Sweetie,
Here's something you can tell Dorothy.
A few years ago, as part of a lovely bunch of Christmas presents, Dorothy sent us a soft grey blanket. Ever since I started working in (a town 55 kilometres from where I live, out in the boonies of northwestern BC) I've kept it in my car. I've always had this feeling that it would come in really handy for something. I've definitely used it. I've cradled fragile things in it, and I've protected Sno' (my lovely, lovely white Matrix) from kind of dirty things with it; in fact, I washed it not long ago because it had gotten a little dusty from some stuff that I had hauled on behalf of (the company I work for). And after I washed it, I folded it up nicely again, and I put it back into Sno', still thinking, "This is going to serve some greater purpose one day." Today was the day.
On my way home from work, I saw a truck, nose down in a deep ditch. Another motorist had just stopped, and he was holding on to his portable radio in one hand, and he had a first aid kit in his other hand. Yeah, he had a portable radio; he was an off duty cop, I think. (In a later radio call, he identified himself as Lieutenant somebody-or-other.) Two more vehicles came up and stopped then, too, and I almost drove away, but then I saw the woman slumped over in the driver's seat, and I thought, "Okay, I can do this. I can do something. I have a *blanket*."
The off-duty cop looked in at the woman as I approached, and then he stopped to put some gloves on, and I actually got to her first. She was starting to stir then, and just as she opened her eyes, there I was, with the soft, grey blanket. The truck's doors were open, so I was easily able to put the blanket around her as she started to shake, and I stroked her hair, and I told her it was going to be all right. When the lieutenant came up to her, I stepped back just a little, but I was still close enough to keep stroking her hair lightly (not too hard, 'cause she was covered in glass). And as she became more and more aware, she really clutched on to that blanket.
Her name is (XXXX), and she's fifty years old, and she's diabetic and (XXXX). (The cop asked her for details of her health. I wouldn't have thought to do that.) She thinks she blacked out for a moment before she crashed. She was bleeding from various locations, and she was really bruised where her seat belt had dug into her neck and shoulder. And she had a big ol propane tank half lying on her, which had come through the truck's back window.
While we waited for the rescue vehicles, the lieutenant kept taking her pulse, and asking her questions (to judge her pain and coherence, it seemed), and I was able to just stand there and stroke her hair while she clutched that blanket. When the ambulance and other rescue vehicles finally arrived, I was able to say goodbye, and tell her once more that it was going to be okay... and, of course, she kept on clutching that blanket.
So, please thank Dorothy for me on behalf of (XXXX). That wonderful grey blanket is sooooo soft and lovely, and I hope that (she) keeps it for a long time.
(It's probably a good thing that you're not here, Sweetie, or I'd ask you to go buy some more beer so I could get absolutely shit-faced drunk! But, I did the right thing, and I just came straight home without picking any up.) /quote from message
I really wish I had more beer!!!
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