An aging man ask the aging woman how life had been treating her.
“Just fine,” she responded. “Raising my little boy to be a Big Man. Working nights. Don’t have much of a social life. But when I have an itch that needs scratched, I have a nice man stashed away that I visit that makes me supper. And he makes me breakfast in the morning.”
“Good for you,” the man said.
“Does anyone cook you breakfast,” she asked, adding an emphasis on BREAKFAST.
“Yes. And we are very happy.”
“Why do you look sad, then?”
An aging man does not like to answer those kinds of questions. They are HARD questions. Because, sometimes, men don’t know why they are sad.
They get up.
They talk with aging women about itches that get scratched.
There are some smirks.
Sometimes when all SHOULD feel right & crisp & fulfilled… for him, they are not.
His back is sore.
The neck tingles for some supernatural reason he is too terrified to confront.
He has to take a pill to wake up.
Another, different pill to go to sleep.
A pill to stimulate an appetite.
Another one to suppress it.
There are debts he knows will never be paid-off.
That bills will be there waiting & picking away at him
But, at the moment, this Young, aging Mother made his day: she reminded him there ARE things like breakfasts to look forward to. That, sometimes, there is an extra egg in the carton. And that is nothing to sneeze at.
She reminded him a dollar was still VERY important. Versus the person that NEEDS one.
How could he argue with someone like this?
Their STATEMENT is so clear, so driven with intent, he was beside himself. And, after a few more minutes of “telling-it-the-way-it-is,” he felt a little better.
Dropping the dime – or a million number of dimes, into the slots – IS something easy to do.
But that’s just not his style.