“Its a nice day for a walk, are you interested?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“Look at that,” I said, pointing to a neighbor who was washing his car in the driveway.

“He wouldn’t dare…”

“Wait for it…” I replied.

The Dad, garden hose in hand, was sneaking up on his unsuspecting young daughter who was busy scrubbing a tire with a sponge. He then sprayed water in her face and the little girl, who was startled and soaked, began to cry. Horrified, he rushed over and scooped her up, apologizing and promising never to spray her again. Between sniffles and tears, the little girl asked him to put her down. The Father, eager to please, complied, and lowered her down gently.

The girl peered up at him, giggled and then picked up the garden hose and began spraying him with water, drenching him from head to toe. They were both laughing as he danced about trying to escape her watery onslaught. Quickly, she had him cornered between the garage and the car and he, wisely, gave up; much to her delight.

As we continued walking by, the Father waved, sprayed water towards his daughter and dropped the hose. The little girl, grinning from ear to ear, then quietly crept up behind him and picked up the garden hose…

“He doesn’t stand a chance,” I said, laughing, “I miss those days.”

“Spraying kids in the face with water?”

“Not so much that, but how she got even with her Dad,”

“Smart little girl!”

“His first loss of many,” I replied, “I do love mischievous humor.”

“Speaking of mischievous, have you heard from so and so lately?”

“I have,” I said, pausing on the sidewalk, “It wasn’t good news, but at least I got a call.”

“What happened, I rarely get a call?”

“Life and more life,” I replied, “our relationship is strained, so I get fewer calls and now, usually, for a specific reason.”

“I know what you mean, but that’s just so and so; that’s how they are.”

“I don’t like it, it shouldn’t be this way,” I lamented.

“Don’t take it personally, its not just you, its others too.”

“That’s even worse! I just don’t get it” I said.

“They’re Transactional,” came the reply.

“What does that mean?”

“They’ll reach out if they need you, but if they don’t, they won’t.”

“Sounds like the relationship I have with the Electric Company,” I said, sarcastically.

“Sadly, yes, but that’s just so and so and they’ll never change; they don’t feel they have too”

“That’s heartbreaking,” I replied, staring at the ground. “Its like we don’t exist until we’re needed.”

“I know…”

“How do I fix this?” I asked.

“You don’t,” came the reply, “the ‘cure’ is worse than the ‘disease.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This is not something they feel needs to be “fixed,” and if you bring it up or worse, you make it an “issue,” you’ll lose them.”

“So, I just live with it then?” I asked.

“For now, yes; let’s hope for a change.”

“Transactional?”

“Yes, transactional”

“Okay, but this is sad” I replied.

“Indeed, it is.”