“Let’s plan some sort of adventure today,” I suggested when he called.
“Well, I was thinking we could clean up those Adirondack chairs of yours. ”
Whaattt? This is not an adventure. Is he serious?
I was imagining a hike or perhaps a drive to my favorite plant nursery or a visit to a winery. The sun was out, the birds were singing. It was a wide-open Saturday.
On the other hand, they are in need of a good scrubbing, I thought.
“And if I bring over the truck we can get your chair and old rug to Goodwill.”
Oh my. This is most definitely not an adventure. But, it would be great to be able to enter my house through the storage room without having to step over that rug. And there is no way I can get those things out of my house by myself, I thought further.
Dating at my age is so different.
Before long we were shoving the rug into the back of the truck and shimmying the old chair in there too. After dropping them off we squeezed in a quick walk on a trail south of town we’d never been on before. We stopped to pick up sandwiches on our way back and sat in the chairs in need of spring cleaning, enjoying lunch in the sun and soft breeze. It felt a little adventurey.
Then back to work.
I texted his grown children a photo of him hunched over a chair, scrub brush in hand. “I suggested an adventure. This was his idea.” They and I had a funny exchange about their trips to Lowe’s and family chore times on Father’s Day. His choice on his day.
It was easy enough. Scrub, rinse, repeat until all four chairs were back on the patio.
I’m not sure I ever would have gotten around to this on my own.
“Thank you. They look amazing,” I told him. And they did. And I would not have done it on my own.
When the chairs had dried and we’d put away the bucket and brushes, he poured us each a glass of wine and we sat in the clean chairs that felt better than new. There was still a soft breeze and the sun was still out. It was just enough adventure.