While overanalyzing my life and the bits that make up my
immediate universe (as always) I come to the realization that I surround myself
with quirkiness.
My friends are social misfits, rad, kind, fun and certainly
not what one would call popular. Mind you social misfits is a term my mom has
used as a kind way to say that my friends are odd, fixer uppers. Naturally
being a feeling, intuitive cancer I feel compelled to "fix" people,
or so says my mom.
Today I watch as the old man crosses our residential street.
Hunched over, curved spine and rounded shoulders. Today's grocery item is
goldfish crackers.
Since the first week we've lived here I've spied that old
man. He lives down a block or so and makes regular trips to the convenience
store conveniently our direct neighbor.
That first time the grocery item was a six pack of beer,
such is the case in most instances. I can't tell you what about this old man
intrigued me so. We've never spoken a word but his very demeanor, his grocery
item, his slow hunchbacked shuffle, never ceases to make me pause.












