I used to be the odd woman out when discussing exotic locations one might want to visit — odd woman out because Hawaii never made my top ten list. I am not sure why it didn’t — maybe because I lived in the Philippines and Panama. Once you’ve seen one tropical location, you’ve seen them all? Or, it could be that I tend to buck the system in general and go against the tide of popular thought? Whatever. It wasn’t on my list.
Until I met Skeeterbess (who you might also know as Anita B. King.)
Skeeter wandered into my messageboard (or maybe I wandered into hers, I’ve lost track) more than 10 years ago – closer to 15 years ago. Skeeter was interesting.
– She lived in Hawaii (nobody else in the community did.)
– She was unmarried, unpartnered and had been for a very long time.
– She had been a single mom for all of her son’s life.
– She had a beagle (and I have always wanted a beagle.)
– She not only owned her own business — she was a pest control specialist. (How cool is that? Not a typical profession for a woman.)
– She was not only a pest control specialist, she used a beagle to track termites — and she and her pup once inspected the base of the Statue of Liberty.
Besides being a very interesting person, she was smart and funny and kind and compassionate and we became friends. Once that happened, Hawaii moved up a good bit higher on my places to visit list and I thought for sure someday I’d have a chance to visit Skeeter in Hawaii.
Time passed, as it does. Stuff happened, as it does. I didn’t make it to Hawaii before Skeeter packed up everything she owned and moved back to Texas. Oh well, I changed my list of places to visit and Texas poppped up closer to the top. I was sure I could get to Texas sooner, rather than later — SXSWi was on my list of things to do someday and I could visit Skeeter and that would be almost as cool as visiting her in Hawaii.
Then more stuff happened and Jenn found herself in Hawaii and then she was pregnant and I was off to Hawaii to be there for JMP’s birth. Sigh.
It wasn’t until the second day I was in Hawaii that I really started to think about Skeeter a lot. We were finally driving around areas that I could picture Skeeter being. Or had seen Skeeter write about. Or seen photos of that Skeeter had taken. It was the more rural, non-touristy places where I felt Skeeter the most. And of course, I couldn’t pass a homeless beach without thinking extra hard about Skeeter. I came home that day and Facebooked that Hawaii was really starting to make me think of Skeeter.
And here’s where it gets bad.
I almost called her. I did. I pulled up my Evernote to find her phone number.
And then I got distracted and I did not call.
Then Johnny Mac Pippin arrived and I did not not call.
Then TW arrived and we talked about Skeeter a lot and I did not call.
And every time I saw the word slipper (spelled incorrectly) or the word slippah (spelled correctly) I thought about Skeeter and I did not call.
She commented a couple of times on my Facebook posts while I was in Hawaii. I commented back a couple of times.
I decided I would call her when I got home — fewer distractions and TW and I and Skeeter could threeway and that would be fun.
We got home and we were tired. And we saw that Skeeter wasn’t feeling well and I thought… no problem, she’ll feel better next week and I’ll be caught up at work and.
Now I can’t call. Because Skeeter died just a few days after we got home.
I am shattered. Really.
And I’m angry. Angry because she shouldn’t have died. And yes, I’m angry because I didn’t call.
Now all I can do is pull out my god damned credit card and make donations in her honor, to the
Slippah Fund and to the
Beagle Freedom Project. Because that’s all I can do.
I did not call.
Posted via email from Life. Flow. Fluctuate.