I drove up to Moise’s farm to bring Barbara some flowers, drop off the new boots I got for Moise, tell them I wouldn’t be around for a few days and see how the fresh food and vegetable stand was doing. On the way up the driveway, I met a new goat, munching on weeds on the way up the hill.

Moise’s new boots are precisely the same as the ones he’s been wearing for years and from the same company (and the same size). I tracked them down online. I will sleep easier knowing he isn’t walking around with a hole in his boot.

Moise and Barbara weren’t home; I gave the flowers to the girls, thumb wrestled, showed off the boots (they grilled me thoroughly as to size and strength), picked up some necklaces for Bishop Maginn and my bartering deal, and left. They didn’t ask any questions about the surgery.

When I mentioned the surgery to Moise, he looked at me with a wry smile on his face and said: “Johnny-boy, why don’t you drop by and let me take care of that bone spur for you.” Maria paled when I mentioned it to her.

I doubt it will be mentioned again unless I am limping badly.

The Amish rarely ask questions; they live in the new and accept it. They don’t want to know too much about us, and they don’t want us to know too much about them.  They have mastered the art of being open and hospitable while remaining private and unknowable.

There is always a distance between them and outsiders; I feel it even as I feel close to them and attached to them.

The food stand is a hit; I can see they sold a lot of squash today; their arrangement of the fruit display and the squash looks excellent. This is good news; everyone at Bishop Maginn who wants an Amish bracelet will get one.

So far, they haven’t said a word about it, and neither have I. It feels good. It worked out. We will probably never speak to one another about it; I will collect my necklaces as payment, as agreed. I think they’re all set for this year.

I’ll miss my daily visit, but I think it means more to me than to them. They fill every minute with work and more work, and if they run out of work, they get in their buggy and go to some other Amish’s house and do some work there. Their hands and hearts are strong.

Tomorrow two doctor’s appointments. The podiatric surgeon wants to see me one last time before the operation Wednesday. I have to see the pulmonologist to ensure the anesthetic won’t pose any problems for someone diagnosed with severe sleep apnea. Wednesday, they come to the house to show me some masks.

I’m excited; I think this mask could be a game-changer. The surgery should get me back to the gym.