Where did I leave off? Oh, that's right. We went snowboarding...
It was a cold Saturday night. The conditions were fair, nothing amazing, but decent enough to go for a few hours. A group of us went together so we could get the Wegman's family night discount. On the very first run down the mountain Herm collided with another snowboarder in our group. I knew it had to be a painful wreck, since the edge of the other riders board caught Herm's shin and sliced through his pant leg, but he didn't act as though it hurt too much. In fact he rode for four more hours, included jumps on the terrain park. We had a lot of fun together. He sort of put his arm around me on the chair lift. I was wondering when he would ever get around to asking me out. As the evening ended and we were walking out to Herm's truck I noticed that he was limping a bit. I asked to see his leg. That's when I almost passed out. The gash was nasty; so deep that I could see bone! You need stitches, I told him. He said he would just go home to clean it up, that it would be okay. But then he looked at it himself and started to get light headed too. There was no way I would let him go home alone. You are coming to my house, I will clean it up for you. And don't bother telling me no. I won't take no for an answer. At my house I gathered all of the medical supplies I could find: alcohol, gauze, a razor, butterfly bandages, Epsom salt, and went to work. I shaved the area around the wound, cleaned it out as best I could, and put butterfly bandages across the cut, trying to pull the skin back together. I also contacted my neighbor, who is a nurse, asking her what else I should do for it. She was out of town that night, but told me that she would come look at his wound the next morning.
(When my sister found out about the ordeal, all she said was "That sly fox!" She was convinced Herm had planned this, just so I would shave his leg.)
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| Not to be gruesome, but this is what we were dealing with. Ouch. |
The following morning Herm came back to my place. It was Sunday, my mom and siblings had left for church, my dad was out of town. After making sure that Herm was comfortable, his leg elevated, I started packing for my week-long trip to Jamaica. I was leaving early the following morning. Sometime mid-morning, Wendy, our wonderful nurse-neighbor stopped by. She looked at the gash. Yeah, you should have had stitches, she said. It was too late for that now, so she cleaned it up again. In the days that followed she checked up on Herm multiple times to make sure the wound didn't get infected. She is an angel, of that I am convinced. Herm spent the rest of the day at my place. He got to know my family, I could tell they all liked him.
Who is driving you to the airport, he asked. At that point I was planning to drive there myself and pay for parking. I wasn't about to ask my mom or anyone else to make the trip there, especially in the wintry conditions. Let me take you, he said.
I drove on the way to the airport; his leg probably needed as much rest as possible. He silently prayed for protection. I tend to be an aggressive driver, especially when I feel rushed. The snow covered roads didn't slow me down. After parking the car and grabbing my luggage, I took off in a sprint, forgetting that he was injured. Limping painfully behind, he finally asked me to slow down. With plenty of time to spare, I printed my ticket and got into the line for security. That's where he gave me a quick hug good-bye and said that he would like to come pick me up when I returned if he could. My heart was melting - this man!
As I was waiting to board the plane, I got a text from Herm. Check the notes on your phone, he said. He had written a letter to me! I don't carry my phone with me all of the time, so he was able to get a hold of it at my place the day before after I had left it in the living room while I was packing. He had taken the time to thank me for all I did for him and his leg, and to bless my trip back to the tiny island. I read and reread that note many times throughout the following week.
My vacation was so refreshing, catching up with my Jamaican friends and those precious children was a delight. But my mind was constantly back home, I couldn't wait to see Herm again. A couple of days before I was to return, Herm sent me a message on Facebook saying that he had talked to my dad, and that my dad wanted to pick me up, so he wouldn't be coming to the airport for me. Why did he talk to my dad? He didn't even know my dad... could it be? Oh, I hoped so!
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| The view from my home in Jamaica. |
On the way home from the airport, my dad and I were chatting about my week. After a while, he told me that he got a phone call from a man, requesting to meet with him for coffee. Before he even finished I was grinning from ear to ear. Herm? I asked. Yes, how did you know? How did I know he asked. How did I know?
I went to work the next day, pretending everything was normal. But it wasn't normal. Herm was sitting at his catty corner desk, how could that be normal? About half way through the day, he Skyped me and asked if I would be into going out for coffee after work. Yes! Heck yes!
Four-thirty came and we were out of there. There is a nice coffee shop in a town about 20 minutes south of our workplace, so we went there. Closed. It looked like Dunkin Donuts would have to do. He bought two lattes and we began to chat. In the midst of conversation he asked if I would be willing to go on coffee dates with him for the next 75 years. It wasn't a proposal, per se, but we both knew it would lead to that. Before he could even finish the question, I was smiling. Yes! Yes! Yes!
The Story //
To be continued
