Sitting at a table, laboring over an eight letter "Bogart & Bacall" title that I still can't recall, for a crossword that will go unfinished, I overheard the owner/operator of the restaurant giving orders to an employee. It wasn't what she said, or even how she said it, but simply delegating a task that could have easily been done herself. I sat back in my chair and felt sorry for the worker who had to stop what he was doing to fulfill the new chore set before him. For a moment, I was the thoroughbred who ran so fast the saddle fell off and took the rider with it. I was very pleased and content to be there, bound only by the last half-dozen of that morning's crossword puzzle. Maybe if I were stronger I'd be able to continue working retail, doing whatever I'm told, saving the little money and pride I have for the rainy days. That actually sounds more like weakness now to me. I took a final sip of Dr. Pepper from my styrofoam cup and decided I couldn't be there any longer stood up in a hurry. Just then, the radio began playing Bill Withers so I sat back down and started recounting my immediate fortunes.
"Tonight, I am going to Tucson to hear some music."
And so I did. It was wonderful night for music, too. An inspiring night even. That night I went to bed feeling better about myself for the first time in sometime and maybe this living spree isn't such a free fall after all.
2 comments:
I heard Tucson was hard, where are you?
Key Largo.
8 letters.
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