Dateline: I-84 North
Trucks rocked the minivan.
Sedans sped by.
The windshield wipers were on high.
And I let the phone ring for a moment.
Because on the Droid there was a photo of who was calling.
It was a deep breath call.
It was Terry Baksay.
And I knew what the phone call was about.
His PET scan.
His purple sky.
"Hello." It was a hello with a stall built in. Long. Pensive. Worry lines.
"db, it's Terry."
"Yeah dude, I see ... " Then I asked a question. THE question.
"... how you doing?"
Waited for an answer I both wanted to know ... and not.
I wasn't going to say another word, until Terry answered, would have sat on the side of I-84N forever if it took that.
I heard Terry breathe, once, twice, three times. He never heard me, I couldn't breathe, couldn't get the breath. No movement.
Except the windshield wipers.
I sat and watched the rain run down the windshield.
"db ... I'm OK ... cancer free."
"Cancer free, my docs are very happy -- couldn't find any sign of the cancer."
We talked a bit, Terry said he competed -- COMPETED -- in a tournament this past weekend.
"I stunk. Did horrible."
I just smiled ... dude you are cancer free ... and that's pretty much the only tournament that counted.
We talked a bit, complained, laughed, thought.
Then I hit the turn signal, got up to speed and continued on I-84N.
And drove through the mist.
On the highway.
"Yes it's moments like this that make me wish
I could freeze frame time."
Freeze Frame Time
Don Barone is an award-winning outdoors writer and a member of the New England Outdoor Writers Association and the Outdoor Writers Guild of the U.K. You can reach db at www.donbaroneoutdoors.com.