MEMORIES OF A DAY

By

Gerry Niskern

I was reaching for the gas pump when a pickup roared to a stop beside me. A man jumped out. He brushed back his wavy, grey hair and quickly tucked his shirt a little more neatly into his good fitting, stonewashed 501’s.

“Hold it, he said. “I’ll do that for you,”

He quickly shoved his credit card into the slot and began punching numbers. He grabbed the handle and jammed the nozzle into place. While my tank was filling, he asked, “Do you have time to go to lunch?”

I’d love to,” I replied, “but my appointment at the gallery is at l O’clock. I’ll just have tine to make it if I drive fast.”

Putting his arm around my shoulder, he said, “Good luck and don’t worry. Remember what we talked about last night.”

I thought about our conservation the night before when I had expressed my apprehension about my presentation of my paintings to a new art gallery. His many years of expertise in sales had helped me numerous  times. Last evening he suggested, “Don’t put her on the spot.”

“Mention that those are what Tom, (the owner) was interested in and ask her which she likes best. After that, gradually work the conversation around to what sizes would work best for her right now.”

He replaced the gas nozzle and with a quick kiss he pulled away in the 64 yellow Ford truck with teal, purple and hot pink stripes marching jauntily down the side.

I eased my van into the traffic. My spirits were lifting like the bubbles in a glass of Pepsi as I thought about the person who had been my childhood friend, lover, husband, sales coach, gas pumper and the father of my children.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY!