Every now and then, thought Doc, that opportunity
comes back to haunt me. Like it is right now on this crisp morning
walk. It came early in his medical life, an invitation to join with
a famous big hospital Back East. He’d make more money, he knew, and
there was the seductive challenge of being on the cutting edge of
what the world of medicine had to offer to the world of people.
He stopped for a minute and looked up through the stark tangle of
bare limbs on a cottonwood tree. The filigree patterns of early
winter never grew old to Doc. Sometimes they reminded him of
capillaries or the branching out of small spring creeks heading for
a trout river. And sometimes, they were just pretty to look at and
deserved a pause in Doc’s morning walk.
He and his wife, known to everyone as Mrs. Doc, had come here to the
valley many years ago. Each had become a local institution the way
these things go in a small, rural area. They both regretted not
having any children of their own, but the devotion each felt for the
other tended to at least partially fill that emotional cavity. [to top of second
column] |
Jeffrey Martin came trotting
along the sidewalk on his way to school. Had his book backpack and
lunch too.
“Mornin’ Doc!” he said.
“Hey Jeff. How’s school?”
“Just fine. Gotta run. I’m late.”
Doc smiled after him. Third grade this year? Close to that anyway.
Jeffrey had been a difficult birth. So had Jeffrey’s mother. And Doc
had been there for both of them. There’s more than one way to have a
family, Doc thought, smiling.
[Text from file received from
Slim Randles]
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