Wherever I go, people ask me for advice. I'm not sure why they do, but whatever the reason, I usually have the same answer. Unless they ask me how to get rid of lice or the best route to the interstate, my answer is usually "Listen to your heart."
Great advice, right? Unless your heart refuses to give you a straight answer. Which is the exact quandary I - renowned advice-giver Aunt Ida Mae Nowes - find myself in right now.
It started back in May when my friend Merl told me to leave open Saturday, June 4, for a surprise. Merl lives in Petersburg but we've developed a friendship over the last three years, and we get together when he visits his elderly mother here in Nubbins. But he's never tried a stunt like this. I told him I don't like surprises and he should just spill the beans, but he refused.
"Fine," I said, with a bit of a pout. "I'll just put it out of my mind then." But I did leave the date open.
On Friday, June 3, he called me from his mother's house.
"Are you ready for your surprise?" he asked me.
"No, I am not," I said in a huff. "Just tell me what we're doing. At least tell me if we're going somewhere."
"Sorry, can't do that," he said, enjoying torturing me.
"Well, what should I wear?" I demanded.
"Whatever you want," he said. "See you tomorrow at six." Then he hung up.
I sighed. Only a man would tell you to "wear whatever you want," for heaven's sake. I went on with my evening, pretending I wasn't the least bit excited.
The next afternoon I was standing in front of my closet in my sweats trying to figure out what outfit would fit any occasion (there is none, by the way), when I heard a frantic knocking at my door. When I opened it, my young neighbor Johnny Mac burst in.
"Aunt Ida Mae - come help!" he yelled, yanking my arm. We ran up the driveway and down the road until I saw what had Johnny in such an uproar. A panting, brown-and-white lump covered in blood lay in the road. A poor dog had been hit by a car, and the scoundrel driver had left the scene. I gulped.
"Where are your parents, Johnny Mac?" I asked.
"They're out shopping with my sister," he said frantically. He looked at me with wide eyes. "We've got to do something!"
I can't tell you how much I did not want to take that dog to the animal hospital, but for the life of me I couldn't think of anything else to do. So I did.
The good news is that the dog lived, and he's recuperating at Johnny Mac's house. Johnny Mac also considers it good news that the dog had no collar, and so far no one has come forward to claim him.
Of course, that was the bad news for me because you can guess who ended up paying the hospital bill. Plus, in the frenzy of taking care of the dog, I forgot to call Merl. When I drove into my driveway at 8:30, I was still in my blood-covered sweat pants, and I was totally exhausted. Merl was sitting on my patio.
"Oh Merl, I am so sorry," I said, slumping down in a chair and starting to explain.
"Don't worry, Ida Mae," he said, seemingly unfazed. "Johnny Mac's mom told me what happened."
"I guess I ruined your big surprise, didn't I?" I asked, looking down at my blood-covered clothes.
"Well, yes and no," he said. "Originally I had thought a romantic dinner would be the most appropriate time to ask you this question, but I think right now is just perfect."
Uh-oh, I thought.
"Ida Mae, I love you for being the kind of person who wouldn't hesitate to forgo a big, important date to instead haul an unclaimed, bloody mutt to the hospital and make sure he got all the care he needed. That's the kind of person I want to spend the rest of my life with. Will you marry me?" he asked. And do you know the man actually got down on one knee, right there on my patio?
I'd like to tell you that I said "Yes" immediately. I'd even settle for telling you I said "No." But for once in my life I was at a loss for words. Merl's the greatest guy in the world. If I married anyone, I can't imagine doing better than him. But I've been on my own now for twenty-plus years and I've gotten used to it. The way it is now, I get to enjoy Merl's company, then go home to my own place. Sure it's kind of lonely, but don't tell me married life isn't lonely sometimes too.
So, here I am with the shoe on the other foot. I'm the one who needs the advice now. Should I marry my sweetheart or stay the single lady everyone likes to call their aunt? Email me at idamaenowes@gmail.com and let me know what you think. Just don't tell me to "listen to my heart." So far, it's not talking.
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