Is there something to say of interest about myself? I doubt it…
Do I wish there was more to say? Maybe, but there isn’t…
If you came here looking for some deep dark secrets, you won’t find them. Unlike some, I don’t see the void as a place to bare the anger in my soul or give into the ramblings of my angst.
What have I done with my life? I don’t know, God will decide.
Is my life the stuff of legends? Again, I don’t know. History will decide.
What have I accomplished? A little bit of this and a little bit of that, I suppose.
What are the highlights of my life:
- I was born.
- I shall die.
Old Man, hobbled, stands in front of me in the convenience store. I, with my afternoon cup of coffee; He with two half-gallon jugs of milk.
Old Man slow shuffles to the counter and, with effort, hoists the milk up. And, slowly, reaches into His pocket. And, slowly, presents and deliberately opens His change purse. Old man pays the cashier.
“Please,” He speaks. “Put each milk jug in its own plastic bag.”
“I can ring them up separately, if you’d like,” answered the Confused Boy behind the counter.
“No. Just two plastic bags, please,” Old Man said, slow.
“Separately rung up?”
“No. Thank you.”
The Confused Boy put the milk in two bags and looked at me. His eyes said, “What’s with the old guy?”
I just smiled and gave him a dollar and a nickle for my coffee.
Old Man, still at the counter, had difficulty taking His first step. It was as if He had industrial strength magnets in the toes of his shoes. His legs pulled, but His feet stayed.
Old Man splayed his arms. In each hand was a plastic bag filled with a half-gallon of milk. He balanced himself with them and pulled hard again. He wobbled, but His feet broke the stickiness of gravity. He walked.
And I imagined myself an Old Man.