Outside, a brisk wind was moaning
through a crack in my kitchen window. I glanced up, briefly, as I
washed a few dishes in the sink and checked the solid blanket of clouds for
an spot of blue. 'No sunlight today,' I thought to myself. OK, sure.
Chilly winds, overcast skies and sore feet were about par for a late
day in March. It was a fact that my condo and my body were rather old, each growing more infirm as the days passed. And, we both creaked a little in a stout wind, me more than the condo...
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On this day, I'd just finished eating
breakfast after first hobbling from my bed over to the fridge. My ankle hurt more so than normal. I
couldn't tell if that left foot was sprained or perhaps gout was getting a better hold. In either case, I was forced to hobble that morning or risk dying of starvation. After a bit, the pain subsided and I hobbled along
pretty well.
My breakfast consisted of an egg, a slice of toasted rye bread and a glass of milk. Only the milk had started to go bad and so I dumped it. Water would have to serve. I fried the egg while wondering what kind of number all the cholesterol was going to do to my circulatory system. I didn't worry at all about the bread.
Off in one corner of the room that morning, my flat screen stared defiantly back at me. It had been off more than on in recent months and was likely a little sore. Being turned off, though, was a testament to sort of channel programs being offered. I found the silence to be refreshing and that TV could glare all it wanted. Anyway, there was the moaning of the wind to keep me company. I quickly consumed the egg and the toast, feeling completely unfulfilled and if anything more hungry! As I sat there at the table, looking at the empty plated with only a streak of yellow and some bread crumbs scattered here and there, I thought of my life. In many ways, I was like that plate. Yellow marks here and there and sort of crumbly and empty headed. Time went by as my grandfather clock ticked off the seconds...