It's morning and I'm sitting on Main Street in front of a café next to a man- forty years my senior.
He’s cradling a porcelain cup of black coffee and a Marlboro. I have an iced americano with light cream, to go.
He starts with "Beautiful day, nice look'n truck over there in that handicapped spot".
I agree, "Yup, nice day. Sure like those side runners."
Idle talk. This is what I miss most about the north. He worked for the railroad, his youngest lives in Europe, works for a ‘fancy- pants’ investment firm, and I’m wandering the north wishing that I could stay.
Silence. The comfortable kind, relaxed.
He takes a drag off his cigarette and as he exhales he says "When you wake up dreading going to work three days in a row, that's when you quit." His eyes are still admiring the truck.
"And how is it that you know this?" I ask
"Because that's what I did." Long pause. "They all said ‘what about your pension? Can't walk away from that, it ain't sencicle.’ But I did. Best thing I ever did for myself".
"Then what?" I ask.
"I built all this". He waves his hand from left to right up and down Main Street. "Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what needs to get done." Another pause, another drag off the Marborlo "Just got’a learn to think for yourself, that's all."
2 comments:
i like a lot.
Yes. I should have at least asked him his name..maybe better not knowing.
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