I needed some fresh air and some alone time today, so I took a walk, just along the road.  My ankle was doing so much better, but I still was very careful.  It was quiet with no traffic and the undisturbed snow was beautiful; it all looked smooth, like ice-cream with glitter and did help to lift my mood.

When I got home, John had all the guns, except of course, for the one I was carrying, laid out on the table and was systematically disassembling, cleaning and oiling them.  It was a joy to watch.  He grinned when I walked in.  I think he really needed something to do; something productive and worthwhile. No matter how much we might like each other, being cooped up together in a small house, can be very taxing on the nerves.  As I watched John work on the guns, I had a thought and got Jim Cobb’s book, Preppers Home Defense, off the shelf, and set it on the table.  I explained who Jim was, that I found many of his ideas useable for here, but I wanted his opinion.  I wasn’t just pandering to John’s male ego, though guys do need to be needed, I sure learned that the hard way, but I truly acknowledge that as part of this retreat now, his thoughts and ideas were just as important and valid as mine.

John watched me closely as I talked, then asked what was bothering me.  He’s gotten to know me well in a very short time.  Has he really been here for only ten days??  I couldn’t help it; the tears prickled behind my eyelids, and were soon just flowing.  He held my hands and let me cry.  When I finally staunched the flow, I told him I was worried about our food lasting.  Those blue eyes crinkled with a mirth I certainly didn’t feel.

He stood, still holding my hand, and said “come with me,” and led me to the back room where the main food pantry is.  “Look around, Deb, really look around!  There is enough pasta here alone to last us months.  I was trying to do a quick calculation, hope that’s ok, and I came up with almost a hundred pounds of various types of pasta.  If we had to eat nothing but macaroni, and ate a pound a day, it would still last us three months.  But we don’t need to do that because,” he turned me by the shoulders, “there are the cases of tuna fish and salmon and mackerel that you were smart enough to buy and store,” and he turned me yet again, “and look at all the soups and tomatoes and vegetables you canned.”  The jars glistened in the dim light.  “How can you possibly let this worry you?” he pulled me close and whispered into my hair, “You have provided us with enough to eat for at least a year, …… maybe two, since I don’t know what else you have.”  John gave me one of his sweet smiles, then got serious.  “I owe you my life, you know.  So please don’t cry, or I’ll think you regret taking me in.”

“Oh, no, no!  I don’t regret having you here, not at all!  Don’t even think that.  If I saved you, then you saved me, John. And you’re right, we will be fine.  I did try hard to plan having enough to share with my family, and that now includes you.” I hugged him tight, and decided he needed to know what else we had.