in her stomach to treat her man to something special for his lunch. And why not? He deserved it. He worked so hard to provide a comfortable lifestyle for the two of them.
Each work morning Gary packed his own gray, weathered, plastic lunchbox with two sandwiches, one orange, and a few additions his wife referred to as “munchies.”The definition of munchies was potato chips or nuts or something else, but it definitely had to be crunchy and fun. A munchie had to be fun.
Judith often wrote short love notes or smiling faces on scraps of paper and tucked them in the lunchbox. Once a week she placed a twenty-dollar bill in the lunchbox so Gary could fill the tank of his truck with gas. He never had to ask. She always knew when it was time.
On this morning, well before it was time for the sun to rise, Gary quietly jogged back upstairs to the dark bedroom where Judith lay sleeping, bent down, kissed her silently on the cheek, then headed back down the stairs and out the front door toward his truck with lunchbox and Thermos bottle in hand. Judith heard the lock on the front door go “click.”A few seconds later, Judith recognized the sound of Gary’s red Ford Ranger start in the driveway just below their second story bedroom window.
Gary warmed the small truck for about five minutes, tuned in his favorite country and western music radio station, and started out on his commute from the driveway of his home in Auburn, near Lake Geneva, to Kenworth Trucking in the Seattle suburb, Renton, Washington (positioned at the southern most tip of Lake Washington), where he held the title of Advanced Painter, Grade l. It had taken three decades for him to reach this level of achievement—working in the elite, enviable class of truck painters at Kenworth.
While Gary drove in the darkness toward work, humming along with the country music on the radio, and Judith peacefully slumbered, neither could know that this would be the last day of their morning routine.
Gary would not come home again.
Judith woke up on her own between 8:30 and 9:00 a.m. feeling rested and ready to rise. There was enough filtered, gray sunlight, typical of the Seattle autumn, seeping in the room around the drapes to provide adequate lighting for her morning thanks and visual inventory of her blessed surroundings. While Judith did not view herself as a stereotypically religious person, having no membership in a church, she did possess a reverence for her Almighty God. She had asked for His help on many fearful occasions, and she remembered to give Him thanks for the good things in her life. Judith had reminded Gary countless times, “Remember, honey, the good Lord works in mysterious ways,” a mantra she believed in with all her heart.
From her sitting position in the middle of the imitation French Provincial canopy bed dressed with floral cotton sheets, matching cotton bedspread and pillow shams she had picked up at a garage sale, she surveyed their bedroom. The room was large with plenty of open space. The furnishings were cobbled together like a quilt made of many different scraps of cloth that had been lovingly collected over the years. The beige carpet and white walls throughout the home gave a neutral background for this multi-colored quilt to contrast with. Against one wall stood a dark, wooden, 1930’s chest of drawers, containing Gary’s clothing. On another wall, Judith’s newer, white, French Provincial dresser, a matching part of her bed set, stored her clothing and personal items. And, a miniature, antique, crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling of the bay window sitting area; the chandelier’s tiny size added daintiness to the overall largeness of the room.
Judith decided to leave the bed. At 5’ 1” she felt diminutive in the large master bedroom. She slid her tiny feet into slippers on the floor next to her side of the bed, then reached for her glasses on the nightstand and pushed them on her face. She walked with an obvious teetering motion, back and forth, from left to right, as she headed for the closet. She typically woke with stiffness in her back and hips. The many years of chronic back pain she described to friends and family as “the needles” had affected her ambulation.
The third wall was dominated by a roomy, wide, double closet; clearly one side designated for Gary and the other for her. It held the couple’s nicer clothing: dresses, blouses, and shirts and slacks that should to be stored on hangers. Cardboard boxes with clothing that Judith wouldn’t hear of parting with were stacked, covering the floor of the closet. I really am a pack rat. Someday I should go through these boxes and give something away, but, shoot, you never know when you might need these again. It’s a shame to get rid of perfectly good clothes! Judith removed a fuzzy, dark-blue bathrobe from a hanger in the closet and wrapped it around herself.
In the corner furthest from the bed, a door opened into the master bathroom that housed a large garden tub. Judith quietly padded into the room, slippered feet on carpet. She sucked in her breath quickly and crossed her arms against the bosom of her soft, cotton, knee-length robe. Oh— my garden tub. If people only knew how much fun we have in that tub! But the water! It takes so much to fill it. She hugged herself even tighter. This was her favorite room in the house.
As Judith passed through the bedroom door and into the hallway, she turned her head over her shoulder and took a wide, sweeping look around the room. This room is so pretty. Plants, jewelry boxes, fancy pillows, collectibles, candles, and photos in frames remained as evidence of the feminine fingerprint Judith had stamped on this room.
Gotta get downstairs. Time for the Regis show! Judith hurried herself along.
Judith moved from the master bedroom to the hallway landing at the top level of the tri-level home. Another bedroom door joined this hallway. She went down a short flight of stairs and entered the main floor. The foyer stemming from the front door, the dining room and kitchen, laundry room, and living room all shared this floor. Another short flight of stairs from the dining room went down to the bottom floor that hosted two small bedrooms, a second bathroom, and a recreation room. The garage could be accessed through a door off the recreation room.
Judith settled in to enjoy the morning on the main floor. She entered the living room and switched on the television, a 27” color television on one shelf of the oak colored entertainment center, the first piece of furniture she had purchased on her own after her first marriage ended. She raised the volume on the television with the remote control so that she could listen to her favorite morning television host, Regis Philbin, while she went in the kitchen and poured the cup of coffee Gary had left for her in the fancy coffee maker. A tall, brick fireplace formed a barrier between the living room and kitchen. But it was open on both sides with screens as doors, and, if the television volume was high enough, she could easily listen to her favorite morning show while shuffling around in the kitchen.
The two Siamese cats of the Ridgway household suddenly appeared in the kitchen. They tunneled between her feet, rubbing and arching their backs against her legs. “Hello my sweet kitties,” Judith gently crooned. “You want your breakfast now, don’t you?” Smiling, she bent down and gave the brother and sister adult cats equal petting time, noting the thicker winter fur increasing on their bodies. Winter was coming. The cats pressed the flat tops of their heads harder and harder into her petting hand, each cat trying to wedge in closer to their mistress. But she admitted to herself that she could not love these cats, or any other animal for that matter, as much as she had loved her poodle, Oscar. Would she ever get over the loss? The dog that she and Gary had raised from a pup and had loved like it was their own child had died only four months prior, and the painful grieving had not lessened. She missed him every day. And, as if that were not enough pain for her to endure, Gary’s mother had passed away just one month after Oscar in August! Tears were forming in her eyes now, and her nose began to drip. She reached for a tissue and quietly blew her nose, releasing a bit of her aching sadness. You know, bad things happen in threes. One was my poor Oscar dying. Then my beautiful mother-in-law passed. Dear heavens, what will the third be? She accepted as stone-cold fact that the third, awful event could hit them at any time. The acceptance gave her gooseflesh.
After the cats were fed, Judith prepared herself a bowl of cereal, the usual
