The Wind in the Willows

   “I don’t have much time to chat,” said Ricky Welch, sighing a bit tiredly as he sat down. “I gotta get back to work by one o’clock, and you know how getting Caroline to her volleyball practice at the Y makes dinner all rush-rush every Tuesday. Still, I can always find some time for you, sweetest wife in the world.”

     “Oh, yes, you are so. You are the sweetest wife in the world, baby. Sweetest mommy, too. Caroline told me last night she wants to look just like you when she grows up. I told her that’d be awesome. Of course, we both know she looks a lot more like me, but I didn’t want to crush her dream of actually being pretty someday instead of, well, looking like this,” Ricky said, pointing to his face. “Another couple years and she’ll be out of middle school, and she’ll figure it out, poor kid.”

     “Ha! I’ll bet you say that to all your husbands. Yes, flattery will get you EVERYwhere with me! Tell me lies, tell me lies!” Ricky laughed, shaking his head.

     Ricky shrugged, saying, “Oh, it’s all the same at work. It’s not gonna change any time soon. Annette is still the only one who really knows what’s going on, and Harley still thinks he knows what’s going on. The damned fool is blessed with growth in their company in spite of him. If it weren’t for Annette, they’d have gone out of business years ago, I’d bet. Harley knows the technical stuff, no doubt, but anything more back-office, more business-y, y’know, he’s just clueless. Annette and I have a good mix, a good division of labor. She still talks about teaching me sales and customer relations and HR, and I still say I’m perfectly fine just sticking with the purchasing and accounting and computers. It’s flattering, though, that she asks. Eventually I need to cave in and start learning all that stuff because both of them are, what, probably fifty-five or older now?”

     “You’re kidding, sixty-something? Annette told you that? When? Oh, at Caroline’s birthday party last year. Oh. Well, all the more reason for me to start taking her up on her offer of learning the other stuff. Harley still tells me at least once a week I’m the son they never had. He appreciates me in his own awkward way. I appreciate him for being the distributorship king of this little part of Ohio, y’know? Company’s growing, we’re up to maybe twenty employees now, money’s poured in since the pandemic. We’re blessed.”

     Ricky paused, noting the breeze picking up, ruffling his hair. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, breathed in deeply, and let the breeze wash over his face.

     “Feel that? No, I’m not cold, I’m good. It was warmer this morning, wasn’t it? April is still just a bit too early for us to get a break entirely from chilly weather, isn’t it? Look, it’s clouding up over that way. It’ll be here in an hour. Rain, rain, go away!”

     “Yeah, I know, I know. I haven’t fixed that leak over the garage yet. If it rains today, there’ll be a little puddle in there when I get home. I keep trying to get to it, but I just don’t want to on the weekends, and you know I have zero time during the work week. Keep nagging me about it, though—no, I’m serious!—keep on me about it, or I’ll be still talking about getting up there and patching those shingles a year from now.”

     “Hey, speaking of Caroline’s birthday party, what do you think we should do this year? I mean, twelve years old may be a little old now to have anything like the cake and backyard piñata and all. I don’t want to get her all ‘Ugh, Dad! I’m not a little kid, you know! Geez!’ and rolling her eyes. Maybe instead we do just some kind of outing, just something not at the house and making for a two-hour clean-up afterward.”

     Ricky raised his hands and shook his head. “No, no, I can handle the clean-up, I guess, but it’s just that—whoa! Let me get that!” The breeze was less a breeze now and more a gusty wind, and Ricky righted the flower vase that blew over, replacing a couple of the flowers that had fallen out.

     “It could be worse,” Ricky said, sitting back down. “I think it’s just a little front coming through. Not like yesterday in Nebraska and Kansas. Yeah, I agree. Living in tornado alley or whatever they call it over there would not be fun. Then again, if a tornado totally blew off our roof, I wouldn’t have to worry about that leak over the garage. You don’t think that’d be good? No? Oh, Miss Practical, that’s you. Thank goodness you are, sweetie. One of us has to have their head on right these days.”

     Ricky paused again to tilt his head back a bit and feel the air, now a bit chillier than just a few minutes ago, nipping at his face. He took three deep breaths this time.

     He briefly remembered when they’d first moved here to Ohio from not too far away in Pennsylvania seven years ago. They’d been together eight years at that point, one year while they finished college at Penn State University’s little Shenango campus, then seven years of newlywed bliss, parenting adventures with baby Caroline, and early-career meandering for both of them. Caroline was ready for kindergarten when they arrived here. Everything seemed so promising then as they settled into family life and now, finally, some career success for Ricky.

     Ricky blinked and came back to the present. “Sorry. I drifted off there for a second, didn’t I? No, I’m not ignoring you. No way. Yikes, I need to get back to work. I’m afraid this wind is gonna blow us both away if I don’t scoot now.”

     Ricky wiggled off the grass to kneeling, leaned forward, and kissed the little grave marker like he did every other day or so around this same time. The inscription was very simple: Karin Welch, 1988-2023.

     Ricky tossed away a few thin willow branches that had blown across the marker and draped across the flower vase. He put fresh flowers in the vase once a month, sometimes letting Caroline arrange them, although Caroline had seemed less eager to visit the grave just these past couple of months. Ricky didn’t push her on it. He was fine with his own routine and his and Karin’s chats.

     Ricky’s face blushed red for a moment as he fought the urge to…what? Scream? Cry? Curse? Flop down next to her and simply die?

     The vague urge gone, Ricky rose stiffly, kicked away one more willow branch, zipped up his jacket all the way against the wind’s chill, and glanced up at the now cloudy sky.

     “Better get on back now, babe,” he muttered. “Love you. Be back tomorrow.”