Styrofoam

March 12, 2013 § Leave a comment

If you ask him how long he has had those shoes, he would say 38 years. Slumped over and exhausted from his morning chores, he would take to his usual seat on the bench in the corner. His beaten leather shoes creaked as he indulged in his peanut butter sandwich. If you ask him how long he had been sitting on that bench eating peanut butter sandwiches, he would say 38 years.  It was Monday through Friday, 8 am to 5 pm, that he would push his buggy with his mop and bucket and toiletries and paper towels and whatever else that lingered but was never really used. If you ask him how long he and his buggy has marched in tandem, he would say 38 years. Of his many duties that many were known to admire were the finely mopped marble floor, polished brass door knobs and glistening, glass window panes. If you asked him how long he has made that place as magnificent as he does, he would say 38 years. And when the day was done, and his buggy and his assortment of whatever no longer marched together, he would take his usual path through the hills to his apartment for two. If you ask him how long he has trekked that arduous path, he would most indubitably say 38 years. When he would arrive to his sufficient home, his beautiful wife would be waiting with a warm smile and a pot full of stew. If you ask him how long he has gone home to his wife ready with a pot full of stew, he would say 38 years. Together, after they ate their stew and the man had told his wife how much he loved her, they would dance gracefully and humbly in tandem. If you ask him how long he has danced with his wife, taking every stride like a smooth carousel, he would say 38 years. If you ask him how long he has told his wife that he loved her, he would say 38 years. If you ask him how long he kissed her goodnight and prayed every night never to be absent of her side, he would say 38 years.

If you ask him what his name was, he would say with a grin in his best english accent.

“38 Years!”

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