Push Pin

There’s a push pin in my wall. 

I don’t need it any more.

But I do.

When everything in my life fell apart this year my friend, Rick, came to my tiny apartment when he was exhausted after a long day’s work to set up my internet and TV. He knew that some things I am good at; like taking care of people. While others, I am not. Internet and TV are on the ‘not’ list.

I just moved in so I had no beer. Rick drinks Blue Light. That day he drank Casa Larga Tramonto red wine instead. I had never seen him drink wine before but we each had 3 glasses. He said he liked it and maybe he really did. But truth be told, I think he was humoring me because I needed the company.

He took calls from the less experienced guys at work and patiently helped them to troubleshoot technical issues while he sat cross legged on my living room floor and set up my Greenlight…and his new router (because mine was too old) …and Netflix. He put a push pin in the wall to hang an antenna so I could get a few more channels without paying a lot more money which is hard to come by since my move. He understood this and was doing everything he could to help me.

I puttered around and rambled on about work, and life, and moving. He listened and occasionally snortled at my plight. Rick has a great snortle. And at one point his eyes filled with tears just a little because we used to be neighbors and have dinner together like family almost every evening. Treating people like family is not on the ‘not’ list. But then I moved. He understood why. He just missed me.

This was in August.

By October Rick was gone.

I now have fridge full of Blue Light that I will never drink because I don’t drink beer, and a wine rack with Tramonto. I can’t explain why. I’m just missing him and his snortle, I guess.

I no longer need an antenna. I scrimped and got YouTube TV so that I can watch the games and the news. They fill the silence when it’s heaviest and I am alone.

And I still have a push pin.

You see, I don’t really need it anymore.

But somehow, I really do.