Life’s interruptions or life’s interventions.
Tortoises need heat. Solitary creatures (other than when they are making sure there are more tortoises to carry on), they are satisfied with pretty much anything in the yard to eat.
They are quiet creatures.
But they don’t do cold.
So when our Cinderella’s heat lamp went out last week, I headed up to our local SuperStore to buy a basking bulb.
* * *
I went in, found the right aisle and started searching for the carton containing the bulb.
I spotted him out of the periphery of my left eye. Coming down between the cans of cat food and fish treats. An older fellow, ragged around the edges, baseball cap on, Braves t-shirt and not many teeth left in his mouth.
Maybe he’ll go on by.
Okay. That’s horrible. But I was in a hurry. I’m the first to admit, we try to cram too much in our lives.
“Ya gotta snake?”
“”No. No, sir, we have a turtle and I need to get a heat bulb for her.”
“Oh.”
Great. Maybe that’s it. He turned silent for a second. Then before I knew it I opened my mouth.
“Well, it’s not really a water turtle, she’s a tortoise. And to my surprise, I’ve become quite affectionate toward her.”
What I done? I engaged a conversation that was waning and sure enough, the old fellow jumped right through the door I just opened.
I learned how he had a box turtle as a boy. He told of the wooden crate they built for him to be outside. Then he spoke of finding a female and how they mated. Eggs resulted and then more turtles.
Things he said prompted other comments from me.
“We really need an opaque structure. I know glass is not the best enclosure for her.”
“Eggs. Really? My son is dying to find a male so he can have babies poking around.”
Quiet for a minute.
Sensing a lull in the turtle talk, I ran to shut the door on the conversation quick.
He turned quiet again.
Then he said, “Yesterday was my wife’s birthday. I lost her April 23. We were married 49 years.”
His head lowered and he bit his bottom lip with one of the few teeth he had left.
“I’m so sorry.”
He looked up with tears in his eyes.
I asked if he had children in the area. He said he did, but added with a laugh that they never come to see him without asking for money.
“Every now and then I think on how hard it would be to have shared a bed with someone most of your life and then one day — they just weren’t there.”
He looked at me and nodded.
He hadn’t wanted to talk my ear off about tortoise enclosures and reptile mating.
He needed his wife and she wasn’t there.
That’s life. None of us gets through without ending up a bit ragged and gaping with holes to fill.
Needing someone to talk to about turtles.
