The Boy Next Door.
My husband, Todd spends most of his free time working in our yard. As soon as he heads outside, he is joined by his two buddies. One has floppy ears, and the other is our neighbor he calls “fifty-one.” It is heartwarming to see them sitting on logs taking a break to burn the tree limbs they've collected.
Many Saturdays, they are side-by-side stacking wood with Simba wagging his tail between them. They compare early morning gym routines, they share college stories, and they laugh over the many pranks they’ve pulled. Fifty-One stacks wood for our fireplace and is outside early with Christmas morning excitement on the day Todd rents a log splitter.
When Simba goes missing, we look in Dale's Garage first and typically he is at the workbench enjoying a snack, or on the deck catching the popcorn his wife Eleanor has popped for the birds. Simba loves that Dale keeps treats in his coat pocket and scratches his back with his rough work gloves. The same gloves that Todd replaced earlier this year, framing the old ones for his garage as a trophy of their yard work.
“This is all your land,” Dale explains to Todd as they stack a woodpile that will last until we have grandchildren. “Fifty-one percent of it is yours, I own forty-nine” Todd responds. Their nicknames are born.
If we are working late, Dale happily takes care of Simba, texting us the details of where they walked and what they dropped behind. He watches our house when we go out of town, and isn’t ruffled by a group of boys in the woods we share. This is not his first Rodeo he has three grown sons of his own.
Three weeks ago, his bride of fifty-eight years was rushed to the hospital and did not return to our neighborhood. Watching Dale experience the heartache, like so many who have lost loved ones during COVID, was heartbreaking. Our neighborhood came together to help him with meals, took him for walks and taught him a few helpful domestic chores.
Those cookies were heavenly,” Dale thanks me on a recent visit to our porch. “Todd and Mason get the credit,” I explained. “You bake,” he asks Todd? Your generation amazes me,” he laughs. Dale explains what he has learned in his three weeks as a bachelor and it makes me appreciate having a husband who is not afraid of the kitchen.
I look out our window and see Dale feeding the birds popcorn, adopting Eleanor’s chores. Simba and I take him on a walk, stopping as he delivers treats to all of the dogs in our neighborhood.
Like my favorite elderly character Carl from the movie Up, Dale is now forced to create new routines. He is upbeat as he tells me about the dinner he made and plans he has to clean out the attic. He has adapted quickly to being in charge of turning out lights when he leaves a room, feeding their cats, and doing the laundry. He is proud of his scrambled eggs and he has invited the cats to sleep on Eleanor’s side of the bed.
Like Russell in the movie, I would like to bestow Dale with the “Ellie badge” for his courage to take on this new adventure. I know that Eleanor is proudly watching his every move.
