Shortly after supper last night, my young neighbor rang our doorbell, her two-year-old little boy planted firmly on her hip.
“Do you think George could help my husband and his brother take something off my brother-in-law’s truck?” she asked. George was out the front door immediately, always ready to help. Then I looked at what was on the truck. It was a huge wardrobe, solid wood, and very heavy. That was confirmed by my young neighbor when she told me that it had taken four men to load it onto the truck, and there was no way just her brother-in-law and husband could do it by themselves.
I looked at those two strapping over-six-feet young men barely in their thirties and worried about my man. If it took four young men to load it onto the truck, how was my dear husband, twice their age and half their size, going to replace two of them?
“Are you sure you want him to help?” I asked. “We’re old people,” I joked. Sort of joked. George assured me he could handle it. I sat on the front step and watched, ready to call an ambulance at the drop of a hat…or the drop of a wardrobe.
My husband jumped easily onto the truck bed and took up the lead position. One of the young men said he wished they had something to help slide the wardrobe across the truck bed. “I’ve got just the thing,” George said, coming back into the house to get sliders. That was my opportunity.
“Honey, are you sure you can do this? That thing is awfully heavy and I don’t want you to get hurt. We’re old people, you know.” He laughed and assured me he could handle it, no sweat. He grabbed the sliders and returned to the truck. I sat out on the step again. Even though I was being devoured by mosquitos, I couldn’t desert my post. Maybe I should grab the phone in case I need to call for help without delay, I thought. But I didn’t want to leave, in case I missed something.
The young men had a beach towel they were using to try to protect the wardrobe from scratches. It was pitifully inadequate. George returned to get a big mover’s blanket and our handtruck out of the garage, and I again asked him to be careful. He reassured me this was not a strain on him and commented that he loved having the right equipment to help them out. You accumulate a lot of the right equipment over the years.
The young men were pleased with the blanket but skeptical of the handtruck, thinking it was too small to be of any use. Once they got the wardrobe off the truck, though, and were able to get it over the curb with the handtruck, one young man said, “This is going to work!” My husband just smiled.
It was backbreaking work getting that heavy piece of furniture into the house, and my husband was at the heaviest end with most of the weight on him as the two young men towered over him and took up the rear. I was so relieved once the task was over and George emerged unscathed and with a spring in his step. My neighbor’s brother-in-law said to me, “George is going to go to bed early tonight!”
“Naw,” I said. “He’s very strong. This was a piece of cake for him.”