country road

It was a warm spring day as i walked along the tracks, the sun at my back. I recall the scent of lilacs and stale spring water mingling with hot rocks and steel. the tree’s that grew on either side of the rails wrestled with the wind enough to sound as though it were raining. it was a beautiful day.

Soon I came upon a small boy, about six years old, he was tossing small stones into a creek that ran under the tracks. He was tall for his age and had fierce brown eyes. He wore a gold, red and blue striped shirt and home made blue jean shorts but the most curious thing was his bowl haircut. It reminded me of something, but I didn’t know what.

“Hello.” he said as i drew near.

“Hello to you. How are you on this fine day?”

“I’m groovy. Whatcha doin?” He smiled.

“I’m going for a walk.” I smiled.

“Where to?”

“I don’t know, home i think. I thought i would take the long way.”

“I think i will join you.” He said with a grin.

“Its a good day for walking.”

“Shouldn’t you stay close to home? Your parents might get worried.”

“As long as I’m home by dark, they don’t care what i do.” He laughed.

And so it was we walked the tracks mostly i silence, but he found enough energy t break the wall of quiet with truly bad jokes from time to time. and i enjoyed his company.

“Tell me something.” I said.

“What would you say is the most important thing in the whole world?”

“HOT DOGS!” he shouted nearly before i finished my question.

“Really? Why?”

“My family is poor. We don’t get to have a lot of good things, but on Friday we get t go to the town over there and have hot dogs! Their great, way better than salmon patties and macaroni and cheese.”

Soon we came upon a young man, about sixteen setting on a rock under a tree.

“Hey!” said the boy.

“Hay.” he replied.

“Whatcha doin?”

“Setting.”

“Oh.” The boy said flatly.

“We’re walkin’! We’re gong to his house! You wanna come?”

“Nope.” the teen said.

“It’s okay. We’re fine being just us.” I said.

“Would it be okay if we rested here with you?”

“I guess.”

We sat in the shade and watched the day go by. The boy would pry answers to questions from the teen and try t amuse him with a joke or two. Finally the boy sat down in front of the teen and asked him what the most important thing in the whole world was.

“Intelligence. Intelligence is what makes the difference between a good life and a bad life. If I were smart enough, I would be able to know why my father hates me. I would be able to understand what i do wrong so he wouldn’t have to hit me. I would be able to understand what I could do to make him love me, be proud of me… but I’m just stupid i guess.”

“You’re not stupid.” I sad in a soft tone.

The words he spoke cut me deeply. I understood what he felt, my father had been “unkind” in my youth. he sent me away for the summers and when i was home it was difficult to maintain a quietness in the household because when my father exploded, it was blood fists and tears. We mended fences before he died and i often said that i didn’t need to like him but i did have to respect him. He didn’t want to be a father, family man, master of a household, but he did it anyway because that was what was expected of him.

We invited the teen to join us one last time but he refused, he liked his rock and his solitude so we left him to it, in peace.

The sun was high in the sky as we walked the tracks. we noticed a figure coming towards us. He was a skinny, long haired young man in his twenties. He wore cut up blue jeans and a black t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. He had a guitar slung to his back and had a swagger to his stride.

“S’up?” he said as he drew near.

“Hello.” The boy and i responded.

“What you up to little rock star?” he smiled and mussed up the boys hair.

‘”We’re just walkin.” he said as he straitened his hair out.

“ME TOO!” the guitar player laughed.

“You like music” He asked.

“Yes!” the boy smiled.

“Can i play you a tune?”

“YES!”

So the guitar player pulled his guitar from his back and began to play. the songs were alright, nothing terribly talented, but catchy and filled with hope.

he played four songs before he lay his guitar down and asked what we thought. The boy of course, thought he was a rock god and i complimented his skill and presentation.
“Say mister whats the most important thing in the whole world?” The boy asked.

“Rock and roll. more to the point, music. Music is the story in your eyes. Music walks along side you and holds your hand. It lets you be what you wanna be. If your sad, it’s sad with you and lets you be happy again. Same as if you’re happy or mad or sleepy, or even if you’re lonely. Music is really the only thing you’ll ever need to get by.”

“Golly! You’re smart.” The boy said looking wide eyed at the musician.

He stood up, brushed himself off and flung his guitar on his back. He smiled at us both and lit up a cigarette. He tossed the boys hair and shook my hand with a knowing smile on his face.

“Gotta keep on moving.” He said looking me dead in the eye.

“A noble man once said, “Its better to burn out, than to fade away.”

And with that he began to walk into the impending dusk. To this day i often wonder if he found what he was looking for.

the afternoon sun hung hot and bright as the boy and I made it to the edge of town. There was a small ice cream shop beside the tracks and we went in for a cone and to beat the heat. A man in his thirties stood behind the counter trying to be jovial and failing at it. We st down at the counter and the boy gave his order and then I did as well. The counter man filled our order and then stood at the end of the counter and waited for us to eat.

“Hay mister. You want an ice cream? Can we get him an ice cream?”

“Would you like one?” I asked the man.

“I’m not supposed to.” He said.

“Theres no one here. Come join us.” I insisted.

He got himself a scoop of mint chip ice cream and came over to eat it with us.

“Mister,” the boy said.

“Whats the most important thing in the world?”

He stood for a minute and thought on the question. With a soft sigh, he looked out the window far far away.

“Love.” He sighed.

“No matter what you do, there must be love. Love for the sake of love, love of life and love for someone who makes you whole, who fills the holes in you and makes you a genuine person. Love is one thing that fuels a person. It makes all the trouble and strife worth going through because no one can do everything alone and when there is someone who wants to take on your burden, it makes it easier to carry theirs.”

“Wow.” the boy said.

We sat the rest of our visit in silence. I understood what he meant. I felt that way once. She was the best thing to happen to me before it came to an end. i could feel the loss of my rudder keenly. It was unpleasant.

We finished our ice cream and i left a generous tip and bid him farewell. Before we got to the door,he called after me and looked me dead in the eye and told me not to blow it, life after love is really nothing more than waiting to die.

Once outside the boy looked up at me and told me he had to go, the sky was getting dark and he had to be home. He was glad that we had met and wanted to know if we could hang out the next time i was coming through and i promised i would look him up. He smiled and waved as he walked away and i am sad to say, i never saw him again.

I found a small bench outside of the towns library where i sat and rested in the light of early evening. the breeze was cool and gentle and caressed my face like a lovers soft hand. i closed my eyes for a moment to recall the day and when i opened them again i saw a man in his forties standing over me.

i shuffled over and bade him sit. He did and we sat on the bench talking on shallow subjects and the weather. For some reason i felt the need to tell him of the boy and our game, so i asked him what he thought was the most important thing in life.

“Being good enough.” She frowned.

“Love is one thing. Music is another and intelligence will only get you so far. You have to be be able to measure up. No matter what you do, who you love, if you are less than what is needed, you aren’t really a person. I knew a girl whom i loved beyond measure, she was my morning and evening star, however i was never able to hold a job, never smart enough nor did i have the talent that she needed to love me in return and so she would go out and find what she needed in others. it was a very long road for her and i and in the end she finally left me for a place that i could not follow. i often think that if i had been good enough at just one thing, i would not be as alone as i am today.”

“I understand.” was all i could say.

His story rung my soul like a bell and for a moment we sat in the dying light of a warm spring day, each with a tear in our eye for the loss of something… wonderful…

Slowly he stood wiping the tear from his eye. He thanked me for listening to his story and commiserating with him. He shook my hand and walked away.

I looked down at the bench and found he had left a small handgun where he had been setting and i realized what had happened in the moment. Slowly I picked up the gun and stuffed it in my pocket. I sat and watched as the sun fell below the rooftops. i watched as the street lamps flickered to life and the dusty grey sky turned black with night.

i wondered if the gun was actually loaded. i stuffed my hand into my pocket cradling the thing. As the night drew darker still and the night bugs began their chorus i thrilled at the thought of letting lose the thunder. it would be the answer to hot dogs, intelligence, music, love. i would measure up to the moment. The most important thing in the whole world would be how to leave it.

To shuffle off on my terms, the way i see fit, as opposed to the way the world dictates it should be, stripped of my dignity and pride, a shuddering mess in a stale white room under dry metallic light, supervised and observed.

To smell the flower laden air on a warm night as the bugs sing. to have the last thing on my mind be of her and her scent and the taste of her skin…

I sat, my eyes closed, looking for balance, for permission. My hand slowly turned the bit of iron  in my pocket lose. i knew and still do that she would not want this for me. she would want for me to suffer. She would want for me to carry on alone. I must learn the lessons that i couldn’t learn with her beside me if i am to be of any use to her when my time is here.

whats the most important thing in the whole world?

Patience…