My doorbell rang. I was sitting in my Lazy Boy and had it extended about three quarters. My right hand slipped down over the side of the arm rest and searched for the damn button that would power me back to a seated position so I could get up to answer the door.
A motorized Lazy Boy sounds fancy and it is a beautiful piece of furniture, but it has challenges — namely that you cannot get out of them quickly to answer the doorbell.
It felt like an eternity as the leg rest slowly made its way to the carpet and tucked itself into the chair. I jumped up and headed for the front door.
Seeing as I was at home by myself, the first thing I did was peer around the frosted glass of the door to see who was standing on my front step.
It was a young boy about 10 or 12 years old. He didn’t fall into any of the usual categories: nephew, neighbour, son, grandson, and my first thought was: he is selling me something for school. I opened the door and said, “Hi there!”
I noticed immediately he was a bit nervous as he moved from one foot to another, hands clasped in front of his body. “Do you have any odd jobs that you need done?”
I was surprised. Do you know how many years it’s been since a child has come to my door offering to do an odd job in exchange for money? “I could do yard work,” he said.
Sadly, I had no odd jobs to offer, unless he wanted to help me sort socks which, in hindsight, I should have offered up because it was odd and it was a job, and hadn’t been done in a long time. Side note: I hate sorting socks and have no problem wearing mismatched socks.
“I don’t have anything right now, but when the snow starts falling, I guarantee I will have a job for you if you want to come back.”
He looked a bit sad. I think he was hoping to make some money that day, but he looked me in the eye and said, “I’ll come back then.” I shut the door and watched through the living room window as he made his way from house to house on the cul de sac.
I wondered what he was working toward. Was it a new computer game? Please don’t let it have been food for his family or new shoes for school, because if that had been the case I would have written him a cheque on the spot.
The fact he was willing to go door to door, ring doorbells and face homeowners was great. It’s rarely something you experience in this day and age. I hope he comes back – I have a snow shovel exactly his size.
Judy Kucharuk is a lover of sarcasm, witty people and footnotes, and lives in Dawson Creek.