There is a man who lives a few doors down from us. Every day I drive down our alleyway, coming and going and buzzing around, and there is the little man sitting on his back porch drinking beer from sun-up to sun down. He has the saddest eyes I've ever seen. I always wave or shout hello in that blink of an eye when I cruise by and he tips his can toward me in salute. I don't know why I never stop or take him a little treat, because I can't help feel sad for my little friend, sitting out there drinking his moments away. I can't help wonder what got him to that place, with those sad eyes and a suitcase of beer to help him get through it.
It makes me think about all the moments in my life when big choices I made, impacted this very moment I live. When I chose to stay instead of go. To turn left, not right. To speak and in hopes of being understood, or stayed quiet to make it all blow over. Our paths dip and dive, criss-cross with others and swerve away, run parallel for awhile or forever and for whatever reason I've ended up here with the people in my life, with the passions and wants and needs and frustrations and loves and hates I have, wondering if I'm where I should be or, if left was suppose to be right.
I think about all this as I drive down our dirty alleyway, past the house with dandelions and junk for a backyard, past the kids on bikes with nothing better to do than spin around the neighbourhood, past the cat hunting, to the sweet green house at the end of the alleyway where our dog comes running for pets and kisses, a hubby leans against the back door waiting to unload the groceries, and I know I'm where I should be.