Yearning For Old Times

It was heartwarming to come home from town yesterday and see the workshop door open. As I entered, there were Gerry and Carl, mounting a mail box on a stand for our new neighbor. Pungent welding smoke filled the front end of the shop as Carl adjusted his welding helmet. Gerry sat fiddling with the door on the box, trying to get it to close. They were exchanging insults. It was like just old times.

Last night Gerry's two brothers and sister came over for a game of auction. There was the usual bluffing, swearing, pounding the table and laughing. Gerry enjoyed the game but found it hard to sit for a long period of time so I had to take over once in a while. After they left, he conveyed to me that he was not feeling well at all; that he felt things were coming quick. I didn't know what to say.

After he went to bed, I was fidgeting around, something I do a lot these days. His coveralls and work jacket were laying on the washing machine. For some reason I searched the pockets. I found Kleenex in one pocket, nothing in the next, Kleenex in another and then I found what I was looking for......two nails in the left pocket of his jacket. They would be there so he could take them out with his left hand and hammer them with his right. It was a vision that gave me peace. It was just like old times.