I'm doing another story in installments. This time, the story is true. I hope you'll enjoy it.
DOROTOHY AND THE WALKER
Early Saturday morning, December 23rd, the phone shrilled.
"Jane, can you and Larry take me to the store?" my eighty-
two-year-old friend, Dorothy, asked. "I want to pick up a few
things before my company arrives."
"We'll be there in fifteen minutes," I promised.
Though she suffered from many physical ailments, Dorothy
maintained a spirit of laughter and fun that infected everyone
fortunate enough to call her friend.
Despite the nearly thirty years that separated us, we had
become fast friends. I chauffeured her to doctor appointments,
to the store, to lunch at a small diner where she insisted upon
treating me. All the while, she encouraged me not to "drive like
an old lady."
"I like to move," she said. With a prayer on my lips and
Dorothy's hand on my elbow, urging me to go yet faster, we
careened through intersections, earning, I am certain, a few
choice words and gestures from other drivers.
One of Dorothy's favorite activities during the Christmas
season was to go to a novelty store where we pushed the buttons
of all the holiday characters, sending them into frenzied song
and dance. No plush Santa, stuffed snowman, or gaily dressed elf
was safe from our mischievous fingers.
Clerks and shoppers gave us indulgent looks.