Skip to content

Dirk

Sun, 25 Feb 2018, 05:03 PM (-06:00) Creative Commons License

1. Excuse Me

The sky was blue. The sun was shining. The dogs and I were returning from a long walk at the soccer fields, which are green-green-green from the rains of the last few days.

We were making the last corner and heading to home, when I saw Dirk, a boy from down the street. Dirk is not his name, but let’s call him Dirk. And boy isn’t right, either. His brother went to college years ago and seems to no longer live in town. Dirk is well past high school age, and we’ve seen him working at a local hamburger joint and a grocery store. So… no, boy isn’t right, but then I’m just an old geezer who remembers when he and his brother used to come to the door on Halloween.

“Hey, Dirk!” I said, squinting in the sunlight.

“Oh. Hi,” he said.

“Excuse me,” he said. I turned to see him hurrying to catch up with us, crossing the street with his hands clutched together and pulled tightly to his chest. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure,” I said. “What’s up?”

He crossed the street, and we stepped onto the grass to get out of the way of a car that was coming up to the stop sign.

2. What Do You Think?

Dirk, with whom I’ve infrequently spoken but to whom I’ve always said “Hi” proceeded to ask me if he could have some advice. Advice about things that are going on in his life — serious things. Not scary things, but the kinds of things that you and I would struggle with.

We walked together down the block, and he talked about his situation. He summarized what he’s thinking he’d like to do. And he asked what I thought of that, because he wanted to talk it out with people he trusted.

“You want to sit here on our bench?” I asked, pointing to the black bench that sits in front of our house.

“Sure,” he said.

We sat down. And he went on, elaborating on details he hadn’t yet shared, and telling more of his story.

I listened. And I answered by saying that I am not his doctor but that it seemed to me like he was thinking hard about what he wanted to do. He should talk to his doctor, I said. 

“And here’s what I would do, if I were in your situation,” I said, “because if I just went to the doctor and started talking, I’d probably just ramble on.”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

I suggested that he write down his thoughts, write down the plan he had told me. “Take it with you tomorrow,” I said. “You can use it as notes, so you don’t ramble.” And I suggested he might be able to leave the notes with the doctor, too, since he seems to get so little time with them.

Dirk sat up from the hunched position he had been in. There was a bit of a sparkle in his eyes. I could hear relief hope in his voice.

“Thanks,” he said as he got up.

“You’re welcome,” I said. “Let me know how it goes. …Just knock on the door. The doorbell doesn’t work, so just knock loudly.”

“I will.”

© jumpingfish by David Hasan is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License