My eyes settled on him as we sat at a red light, not-so-patiently waiting for our turn to travel slowly down the crowded road. He stood in a parking lot, a heavy bag over his shoulder, looking down at a pothole large enough to swallow a car. It was the kind of pothole that most anyone would look at and just start cussing. It appeared that the man who was nearly doubled over from age was doing exactly that.
He gave that pothole a piece of his mind and then some.
The traffic light was a long one, so I continued to watch the old man in the tan jacket and freshly pressed slacks. He finished chewing out the pothole and slowly hobbled his way towards a car. "I really hope he's not going to be driving," I thought.
Call me Judgy McJudgerton, but I'm one of those people who thinks EVERYONE should have to take a driving test every five years or so. Half this world has forgotten how to drive, and it only gets worse as we all turn into senior citizens. The old man with the bag was so doubled over from the years that it seemed improbable that he could see over the steering wheel with any sort of effectiveness.
Fortunately, he walked past the car and headed for the bus stop. That seemed a much better idea in my judgy little head.
As the man walked, he periodically stopped, looked up, and chatted to the person standing next to him. Except, I couldn't see the person standing next to him. I'm sure that the man could and I'm sure that it was a fantastic conversation because he would pause every once in a while and smile. Whatever the invisible person in his mind was saying, it made him happy.
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She was supposed to be helping me wrap Christmas gifts. I sat in the midst of a pile of wrapping paper and gifts that Alexis had picked out, but her little fingers were doing nothing to aid me in the cutting and taping. Normally she's good for an assist or two, but on that night she was busy.
Alexis had pulled her little chair over to the Christmas tree and was rocking slowly in the chair. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. All the while, her little mouth kept moving. It's the story of any 5-year-old's life. Always talking. ALWAYS.
Except, on this evening, every once in a while she would pause in her dialogue. After the pause, she would say something like, "You are so right!" or "Me, too!" or "Did you really?" and then she would smile.
Alexis was having a very animated conversation with a person who wasn't there. I tried to interrupt the conversation a time or two and was promptly SHOOOOOOOOSHED into silence.
Whatever the invisible person in her mind was saying, it made Alexis happy.
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As I listened to Alexis go on and on and on and on, I could think only of the old man and his similar conversation. We really do return to where we began, don't we?
