“We’ll Be Friends Forever, Won’t We, Pooh?”
Piglet in A.A. Milne’s Winnie the Poo
He waits until making eye contact, shoulders hunched
over a red walker, black jacket zipped to his chin,
hood pulled about his head as the uncharacteristic
winds roar through the month of holidays.
Gloved hand clutching both walker and envelope,
he inches toward me slowly but with resolve.
He asks if I know the area—a sidewalk as familiar
as the road to my house. Pointing to the block-like
printing on the envelope, he says he is looking
for #229. I offer to run ahead to my mother’s building,
to scan the roster posted outside locked doors,
see if there is a match on the second floor. There is not
and I am surprised by how few names I now recognize
since first opening these doors eight years ago.
I offer to jog to the other building. He shakes his head.
“I live there. He does not.” In halting phrases,
he tells me about his friend, an entrepreneur,
a man of influence. I key the name into my phone
and gently ask if his friend might have passed,
not mentioning it has been twenty-seven years.
The man’s shoulders shrug beneath his jacket.
“I might have used an old address list,” he murmurs
before turning and beginning the walk home,
envelope still in hand.
From briefcase to pen, paper and camera, one woman's journey to influence
how we care for the environment, our seniors, each other.
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The Ideal Gift
Tiny Treasures, a collection of wildflower photographs and poetic prose, available by contacting me.
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