Rainy Day Remembrances

I stepped into the café that late morning and wiped the rain from my work shoes. Dad was in a booth with three other farmers drinking coffee. He was probably on his third pot of the day. No sugar, no cream. He enjoyed his numerous cups of black coffee from 5am until sundown.

“Parts came in,” I said as I pulled up a chair to the booth. I wouldn’t share in their coffee and conversation that took place on these rainy days in the café. When planting season starts, we may not see these guys taking a break for morning coffee for weeks.

“You got the new starter on the tractor, then?” Dad asked. 

“I was hoping you’d give me a hand.”

“Kids,” Dad said to the guys in the booth who nodded and harrumphed in affirmation.

“I had to help you get the old one out,” I said. “I thought I’d help you bolt the new one in.” This wasn’t a job for one person who would have to contort their arms around the frame of that old Allis Chalmers tractor to hold the starter in place, plus getting the first bolt tightened. After that, one person could finish (me) while Dad had another cup of coffee.

“I’ll give it a shot,” I said as I stood to pull back the chair to the group of tables. This allowed the waitress to come by with a fresh pot of coffee for those in the booth.

“No,” he said as he slid his mug for a refill. “Why don’t you help Dale bring his cows in?” Dad framed it as if I had an option. I really didn’t. He lent my labor out to neighbors all the time. “Lent” wasn’t the right word because I never got paid. I think half my jobs baling hay the previous year were for free.

“You can borrow my boots,” Dale said to a chorus of laughter. He wore a size 18 and I could probably put both of my feet into one.

“I’ll grab mine and meet you at your truck.”

At least this would give me another day that I didn’t have to think about her.

Linked at Poets and Storytellers United: Friday Writings #18: Moments of Joy