An acquaintance died this week. A private, lonely man with few friends, no known family. He shared wisdom, but couldn’t live the words. He shared kindness, but didn’t love himself. He exited this place by harsh means. No key to his heart, mind nor the lock into his home. His life seemed to reflect this image of his front door. RIP John
As I came home late tonight, I rounded the corner and glanced over at the old duplex I had highlighted a few days ago. There it stood, both doors open like black holes giving signs of a passing, dark force. I pulled around and approached the building. I got out of my rig and listened while the East wind blew against my back. I walked up and saw both doors had been breached the hasps broken and the locks laying on the ground. I peered into each open door and could see the two rooms were now storage places for all manner of stacked stuff. I closed the door to each and drove away finding the timing so odd…how life works sometimes.
