January 31: How the hedgehog has become superstitious
When he lived in Saskatchewan,
he knew a girl whose favourite animal was hedgehogs. She was exactly
seven months younger than him and she had brown hair and brown eyes and
she weighed 125 pounds and she was an accountant. Once he saw her eating
salad at Boston Pizza. The gumline on one of her incisors was a little
higher than the other one. Her favourite hockey team was the Saskatoon
Blades.
He bought her a hedgehog beanie baby for her birthday. But when he went to her place to give it to her, she was gone. She'd moved out. Didn't leave a forwarding address or anything. He has never seen or heard from her since.
He still has the hedgehog.
*
The hedgehog has traveled with him to Quebec, Alberta and now Ontario. He can't bring myself to get rid of it. He knows that the girl from Saskatchewan is gone. The hedgehog is his only link to her.
Having said that, I should mention that the hedgehog has never enjoyed prime real estate in his apartment. For years, it was kept in a cardboard box in his storage room (along with an old stapler, a Betty & Veronica Double Digest, and some awful tasteless comics he drew in high school.) Now, it is on his bookshelf next to The Oxford Companion to Philosophy.
*
I just had dinner at Pizza Pizza. Pepperoni pizza (no cheese) and Frank's Red Hot dipping sauce. As I ate, Billy Joel was singing New York state of mind. Obviously I am not in a New York state of mind. I am in a Saskatchewan state of mind and it was brought on by my friend, Deb McKitrick, whose title made me think of the hedgehog beanie baby and thus, of my missing friend from Saskatchewan.
*
He thinks his friend went on a mission trip with her church. She had been battling an alcohol addiction since her college days and she just wasn't quite able to beat it in the small prairie town where she lived - a place where farmers drank and drive as a matter of routine. She must have thought she'd have better luck staying sober if she went to Uganda.
But still, he wonders.
She took nothing with her. She'd left a note, addressed to no one in particular, saying her life in Saskatchewan was going nowhere and she needed to drop everything and move on.
He read the note and then put it back on the kitchen table where he'd found it. Then he took the hedgehog back to his car and drove home.
*
How superstitious the hedgehog has become?
He looks at it now and then, sitting there on his bookshelf, and he knows it will stay with him the rest of his life. He thinks of it as a Norn, the three blind sisters who, according to Greek mythology, spun threads that represented the lives of every being that ever lived. He thinks that the girl from Saskatchewan will stay alive as long as he keeps the hedgehog. If he throws it away, she will die.
*
He rarely thinks of her anymore. But sometimes, she appears to him in dreams.
Sometimes it's at the karaoke bar where they met, where she sang Shania Twain's Any Man of Mine. She didn't sing well. She was drunk.
Sometimes it's her at the public swimming pool, a black swim cap with Sonic the Hedgehog emblazoned on it.
Sometimes it's her driving her blue Toyota Paseo to the grocery store.
But more often than not, he dreams of her in Africa. Helping little kids fetch water, leading a Tuesday night Bible study, playing an acoustic guitar and leading a women's worship group in a hymn.
And when he wakes up, the hedgehog, sometimes, is looking at him.
Sometimes.
He wishes it was more often.
He bought her a hedgehog beanie baby for her birthday. But when he went to her place to give it to her, she was gone. She'd moved out. Didn't leave a forwarding address or anything. He has never seen or heard from her since.
He still has the hedgehog.
*
The hedgehog has traveled with him to Quebec, Alberta and now Ontario. He can't bring myself to get rid of it. He knows that the girl from Saskatchewan is gone. The hedgehog is his only link to her.
Having said that, I should mention that the hedgehog has never enjoyed prime real estate in his apartment. For years, it was kept in a cardboard box in his storage room (along with an old stapler, a Betty & Veronica Double Digest, and some awful tasteless comics he drew in high school.) Now, it is on his bookshelf next to The Oxford Companion to Philosophy.
*
I just had dinner at Pizza Pizza. Pepperoni pizza (no cheese) and Frank's Red Hot dipping sauce. As I ate, Billy Joel was singing New York state of mind. Obviously I am not in a New York state of mind. I am in a Saskatchewan state of mind and it was brought on by my friend, Deb McKitrick, whose title made me think of the hedgehog beanie baby and thus, of my missing friend from Saskatchewan.
*
He thinks his friend went on a mission trip with her church. She had been battling an alcohol addiction since her college days and she just wasn't quite able to beat it in the small prairie town where she lived - a place where farmers drank and drive as a matter of routine. She must have thought she'd have better luck staying sober if she went to Uganda.
But still, he wonders.
She took nothing with her. She'd left a note, addressed to no one in particular, saying her life in Saskatchewan was going nowhere and she needed to drop everything and move on.
He read the note and then put it back on the kitchen table where he'd found it. Then he took the hedgehog back to his car and drove home.
*
How superstitious the hedgehog has become?
He looks at it now and then, sitting there on his bookshelf, and he knows it will stay with him the rest of his life. He thinks of it as a Norn, the three blind sisters who, according to Greek mythology, spun threads that represented the lives of every being that ever lived. He thinks that the girl from Saskatchewan will stay alive as long as he keeps the hedgehog. If he throws it away, she will die.
*
He rarely thinks of her anymore. But sometimes, she appears to him in dreams.
Sometimes it's at the karaoke bar where they met, where she sang Shania Twain's Any Man of Mine. She didn't sing well. She was drunk.
Sometimes it's her at the public swimming pool, a black swim cap with Sonic the Hedgehog emblazoned on it.
Sometimes it's her driving her blue Toyota Paseo to the grocery store.
But more often than not, he dreams of her in Africa. Helping little kids fetch water, leading a Tuesday night Bible study, playing an acoustic guitar and leading a women's worship group in a hymn.
And when he wakes up, the hedgehog, sometimes, is looking at him.
Sometimes.
He wishes it was more often.
Comments
Post a Comment