In the last couple of days.

I saw a man standing in the middle of a street. One foot on the double yellow line. Cigarette burning dangerously close to his fingertips. Head tipped down.

We, the traffic facing him with our headlights, we stopped. Unsure of what to do, we waited for the abnormal to fade into explanation. A moment passed; it was two beats too long not to remember this scene.

He almost fell in the road. He seemed to be asleep. I thought I should get out or at least call for help, but no ideas could complete themselves in time.

And then, as though suddenly waking from his dream, he looked up. He jerked alert and ran to the side of the road as if he’d always meant to be moving toward the bus stop.

………

I saw my grandfather eating. He finally gave up on the fork and picked up the slice of pizza with his hands.

“Grandpa,” I asked him in that hard-of-hearing tone I’ve had to learn, “Did you ever live alone? Did you have a place of your own when you were a bachelor?”
“No,” he answered, “Until the war I stayed on to help my mother with the farm. And after that I was married.”
“So, you never really needed to cook for yourself?”
“No, don’t seem like I ever needed to much.”

He wiped his mouth with the napkin.

………

I saw the sun break through the clouds. After so many days of grey and rain, it made me feel like singing.