this time

It was short and sweet over the phone me admitting to Josh, one of my best friends, my Desert Island Guy, you know the person you would choose to be stuck with when push comes to shove, that my diabetes is out of control and I am feeling lost.  He knows without me saying it I mean I am scared.  The pep talk, the brave act of telling me I might consider limiting my coffee intake, the gentle voice of a man I trust running through all the to do’s and don’t do’s, again without belittling without judgment without saying ‘you know what to do just do it’.  The whole conversation he was making his way to me, down the canyon so I could drop him off at the airport.  I am the anchor who gets stuff like this done.  I get called in when things blow up and time matters but no one wants to be lectured about it.  His mom has been making frantic phone calls to me all morning "Josh missed his flight & won't answer his phone."  I have one job; to get Josh to the airport.      

The ride to the airport was also short (with him behind the wheel), but sweet? not so much.  Running notoriously late for this his second attempt today to fly out of SLC the threat of missing this plane too was very real.  I don’t think I have (been) driven that fast in over 2 decades.   Every once in a while he would turn to look at me and smile.  “You don’t normally scare me.” I say laughing and halfway closing my eyes.  I flinch as he speeds weaving in and out of traffic.

“Reminds you of high school doesn’t it?” He answers and turns up the radio.  He is in heaven tormenting me like this.  Shorts, t-shirt, ball hat, he looks like high school and he wears it well.

I lean in so he can hear me against the rush of the down windows and the music which just happens to be playing one of my most favorite songs of all time, “If I would have known I was going to die today I would have eaten what I wanted for breakfast.”

“You’re not going die today.” He says but the grin on his face is more serous than humorous.  He takes a turn at mock speed swerves around 2 other cars.   It is surreal like a video game.  When he bought this car as a reclaimed salvage he told me he thought someone had died in it.  I thought about the new front end crash tests being done & the epic failures all around, about the seat of death.  It reminds me I want to live and I think somehow that was the whole point.  Josh knows how to speak so I will listen, most often it doesn’t involve words.

We cut it so close he instructed me to not leave the airport until he knew whether or not he would be allowed to board.  He called just as I was rounding the last bend, “I’ve got.  We’re good…”  Yes Sir, I believe we are and I drove his car home, windows down, stereo up, doing the speed limit the whole way.