A Bold and Saucy Day

Things have been pretty calm since my run-in with the homeless man. What was that poor fella's name...cardigan? I can't remember. I still haven't figured out what he meant by "Troubles hurt the most when they prove self-inflicted." People and their jibber-jabber, I'll never understand it...

I woke up this morning and realized it was Thanksgiving, the first one without Estelle. I laid in bed for a while and thought of what it used to be like. I could see her bringing out the golden-brown turkey and setting it right smack dab in the middle of our kitchen table. Surrounding it was an array of mashed potatoes, green beans, dressing, and the most delicious sweet potato pie you could ever imagine. It didn't make any sense, her making all that food, because there were only two of us. She liked it, though, and the seeing the joy on her face as she cooked made it all worth while.

I rose out of bed to get dressed for work. I got there and went about my usual routine, albeit a little less chipper. Once I clocked out, I made my way to Bubba's Buffet for dinner. I'd been eating there a lot lately. Estelle used to do all the cooking, and you get tired of eating shredded wheat cereal for dinner. Plus, there wasn't a turkey to be found anywhere. It just didn't feel like the Thanksgiving I knew.

As I opened the door to the buffet, a gust of hullabaloo ran into my ears. The place was filled with people and noise. I braced myself and got in line. A few moments later, I heard someone behind me. It was a woman's voice.

"Why are there so many people here tonight?"

I turned around to answer her and saw that she was around my age. She had on a lot of knitted clothing, too much, but she was pretty. I hadn't thought that in a while. No one was as pretty as my Estelle...until then. I said,

"There's no turkey anywhere. How can there be Thanksgiving without a turkey?"

"It's just not the same as it used to be."

"No... it's not."

We stood there for a few seconds. Before I knew what happened. I asked,

"Would you like to eat with me?"

"I would love that! I'm Bertha!"

I extended my hand to shake hers.

"Clyde"

I couldn't explain it but at that moment I felt joy. I'd forgotten it. We moved along with the line and introduced ourselves more. Bertha told me about her love of knitting. That completely explained her clothing choice. I told her about my Estelle. She understood and recommended I knit the pain away. It made me laugh; I hadn't laughed in months. I picked up the bold and saucy chicken with a side of macaroni and a side of cabbage, and I looked for a place to sit down. The place was packed, but I saw an empty space a few feet over. I almost sprinted to get it, well as much as an old man can sprint. I sat down and waited for Bertha. After taking a moment to look at my chicken, I saw that it was neither bold or saucy. It had a pale brown color to it and looked kind of dry. Once Bertha got there and we started talking, I hardly noticed.

No one could ever replace Estelle. But with Bertha, I don't feel so alone. I am truly thankful today, thankful to feel again.

A Date With Destiny

Now I 've seen many days in my lifetime, but never one like this. Where do I even begin? I guess I'll start with my walk home. This Sunday evening I left church, after a meeting with the pastor, and began to head to my duplex. All of a sudden, I remembered that I needed to stop by the post office to pick up my umbrella. Weather reports said it should rain pretty hard tomorrow. The sky has been brewing the storm for a couple of days. Fog has covered everything since Friday. Anyway, I drew closer and closer to the post office when I noticed a figure next to the door. I couldn't quite make it out until I was about three feet away. Even then, things looked fuzzy. Maybe I will look into getting some glasses...but I'm still not blind. The figured turned out to be a man. He was red-headed and seemed to be homeless. When I tried to look at his face, I saw that one of his eyes was covered with an eyepatch and the other was uncovered, but white like an eggshell. There's no way I can be blind. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw a leg laying next to him. I quickly realized that it was prosthetic. The pinnacle of this man was the brooding owl on his shoulder. It glared as though it wanted my soul. I didn't want to be rude so I said,

    "Evening, sir. What's your name?"

With a thick Scottish accent he said,

    "Artagan's me name. Spare me a dime and I'll share a mystery hidden behind time."
    "What's that, fella'"

He shook his beaten up tin can. I fished in my pockets, found a dime, and dropped it in. Then he said,

    "Troubles hurt the most when they prove self-inflicted."
    "What's that supposed to mean?"

He sat mute. Then the bird made an awful screeching sound. I ran away to escape the piercing noise. I lost my footing and ended up tripping over uneven sidewalk. I tried to brace my fall but ended up knocking myself out with my knee. All I can remember after that is waking up on a park bench a couple hours later. I mustered up enough energy to sit up. My head throbbed, making the inside of my head sound like a bass drum. I staggered home, opened the door, and plopped down on my bed. These old bones can't bounce back like they used to. I wonder who put me on that bench. Today has been most unfortunate. I didn't even get my umbrella!

A Little Pick Me Up

Every Thursday I work late at the post office. So today, I decided to take a break and get myself a cup of coffee from Orwell's. My eyes were beginning to droop and I couldn't focus on my job. I walked in and took off my hat. The felt made my head itchy. The air was a little smoky and the lights were dimmed, not the Orwell's I'm used to. A little disoriented, I continued toward the counter. Behind the register stood a young woman. She had a bright smile, and what looked like small tufts of hamster fur on her sweater. Why she was wearing a sweater in the summer eludes me. Kids these days. I grew a little weary and hoped she wouldn't be the one to make my coffee.

   "Hi I'm Emma! Welcome to Orwell's! What can I get for you?"
   "I would like a coffee, black."
   "Okay, one Cafe Americano?"
   "Pardon?"
   "Cafe Americano."
   "Is that coffee?"
   "Yes, it's black coffee."
   "Okay then. Why didn't you just say so?"

The youth make everything so complicated. She came back with my order and I paid. I sat down at the bar, a big yawn escaping out of my mouth. I started to sip my coffee and waited for it to kick in. As I sat there, I noticed a kid, about twenty two, walk up to a mic. The idle chatter ceased and all eyes were on him. I leaned in toward Emma.

   "Excuse me, Ms.-."
   "Roids. Emma Roids"
   "Ms. Roids, What's going on?"
   "It's spoken word night."
   "Oh! I love a good poem. My wife, Estelle, and I went to one of these on our first date. My oh my, was she beautiful?"

Then the poem began.

   "the sun,
on his search for life,
rose and found a tulip,
delicate,
beautiful.
the sun used it's rays
as a spotlight,
making his newfound love
a star.
but the night pulled the sun away
and he wept,
waiting to see her again.
that moment did come,
and it was like seeing her for the first time,
enchantment.
yet one day,
the night came as it did,
but did not regress.
the tulip had been taken
by her Creator.
the sun realized,
and he wept,
waiting to see her again."

A tear rolled down my face. I hid it with my jacket sleeve. Emma looked at me.

   "Hey shouldn't you be getting home. It's pretty late. I Imagine your wife is worried by now. You should call her and let her know you're alright. Here borrow my phone."
   "Thank you, but I don't need it."
   "You sure? I wouldn't want her worried."
   "You're very kind...but my wife passed away in March."
   "I'm so sorry, sir! I didn't mean-"
   "No, no. It's quite alright. I'd better be heading out. Thanks for the Cafe Ameri-whatever it was."

I gave Emma a reassuring smile, put my hat back on, and gave her a nod as I opened the door to leave. I headed back to the post office and tried to think of other things. I suddenly remembered the letter I found the other day. I felt in all of my pockets but found nothing. I assumed it was somewhere at home and didn't give it a second thought. I got back to work, but after a few minutes I decided to clock out early. I was too distracted... God, tell my Estelle I miss her.

The Day Started...

The day started with the scent of freshly baked apple cinnamon doughnuts, that they only make on Mondays, wafting into my window. I live about a five minute walk away from the Sugar and Spice Bakery. My duplex is the one closest to the bakery; I live on the left side. So every morning, my nose perks up at the fruit of an oven's diligent work. I got up from my bed, took a shower, dressed, and headed out the door, brown felt hat in hand. It was about 6:30 in the morning, so the atmosphere was calm, just the way I like it. On my way to Sugar and Spice, I realized that some things looked a bit blurry through my glasses. My ophthalmologist says he thinks I'm going blind. He says," You know, Mr. Jenkins, this isn't uncommon for people your age." I hate the way doctors talk to me. Sure I'm 85, but I'm not a child. I know what happens to "people my age." I still refuse to lose my sight. My eyes are just tired is all. What does he know?  I've got the eyesight of a bat...wait no, I think it's a hawk, the eyesight of a hawk. Well I know what I meant. That's all that matters. Anyway, I got to the bakery and saw Gertrude. Lord, if that woman doesn't stop pestering me about taking her out on a date, I don't know what I'll do. I'm just not ready for that. It's only been five months. I'm just not ready. So I politely gave Gertrude a "We'll see, Gerdy.", smiled, and proceeded to get my doughnut. The baker knows just the way I like it and gives me extra glaze. Mmmm I can still taste it. Just enough sweetness, just enough apple, just enough warmth, just enough perfection. From the bakery, I walked to the post office for the morning shift and ate. When I got there and opened the doors, my heart jittered about like an excited five year old. There's nothing like sorting mail in the morning. So I got right to it. After sorting about thirty letters and six packages, something caught my eye in the corner of the bin. It was a light green envelope with a red, wax, seal. It was addressed to me. I put it in my pocket and continued working.