Every so often I get this urge, if not a need to disappear. Not a normal kind of disappearance, where people just drift off and you lose sight of them. I have to disappear in such away that no one sees me leave, sees which direction I went, and I have to go where no one knows me. I turn the GPS off on my phone, and use proxies on my laptop if I chose to write or publish. I have to disappear, I have to blend in, and blur the lines between me and the world.
Today was that kind of day.
And it paid off.
Today I was people watching from my car, just thinking nothing, doing nothing.
*Knock* *Knock*
There was a man standing on the side of my car. I had found my center sitting there, and let my guard down. I got lost in my thoughts of nothing and was caught off guard. My heart raced from being pulled back to the world so fast after so long of being away.
I roll my window down.
"Excuse me sir, my name is Stanley Palmer..."
I introduce myself. He is dressed in a collared shirt, sweater vest, dress shoes, and a fitted ball cap. The black and gold, with dollar signs ($) all over the cap was a stark difference to his attire. He was clean shaven, except for his salt and peppered goatee. His hair was finely cut, and wavy, colored the gray of fine ash.
"I am marine. I am 68 years old, but I whooped two cops ass last night."
He didn't ask for anything. He just wanted someone to listen. He needed someone to hear his story. For an hour and a half I listened. The more I listened the more I watched and examined. He was finely dressed, but as he spoke I started to notice that all was not right.
His collar was stained with sweat, his pants were ill fitting, and his body was wrecked. Misshapen and broken. This was a man who had seen tough times. Who had seen terrible things. But he wasn't angry about it. He wasn't upset, or resentful at all. This was a man who had been to hell and back and laughed in the face of the devil. Spat in eyes of demons and came back with his head held high.
How was this possible? How did this little, broken man survive and triumph? His eyes were foggy, the blue had long since faded, but there was a fire there. A fire I wanted, and needed. So I listened on, trying to decode his stories, trying to learn the secret of his strength.
He was clearly homeless, crazy, and losing touch with reality. His words were slurring, and he stuttered. He went in circles, and doubled back. But I had to learn his secret.
His faith kept the darkness at bay. He kept saying the world is the devils domain now, and I thought it was mad ramblings, things a naysayer of apocalyptic reckoning would spout. But I discovered his secret. He knew there was darkness in the world, he knew there were demons and nightmares. But he also knew that in his faith he was protected.
We tried to exchange numbers so I could keep in touch and check up on this man who changed my life, and my day of hiding. But the number he gave was for a stranger. I lost an angel today, I dropped him off a couple blocks from where he approached me, and I pulled away. Instantly I turned around to see if he needed anything, and he was gone.
Stanley Palmer, you are a good man, and thank you for showing me yet another way to combat my own demons. I pray you are safe, where ever your wings may have taken you.
Today was that kind of day.
And it paid off.
Today I was people watching from my car, just thinking nothing, doing nothing.
*Knock* *Knock*
There was a man standing on the side of my car. I had found my center sitting there, and let my guard down. I got lost in my thoughts of nothing and was caught off guard. My heart raced from being pulled back to the world so fast after so long of being away.
I roll my window down.
"Excuse me sir, my name is Stanley Palmer..."
I introduce myself. He is dressed in a collared shirt, sweater vest, dress shoes, and a fitted ball cap. The black and gold, with dollar signs ($) all over the cap was a stark difference to his attire. He was clean shaven, except for his salt and peppered goatee. His hair was finely cut, and wavy, colored the gray of fine ash.
"I am marine. I am 68 years old, but I whooped two cops ass last night."
He didn't ask for anything. He just wanted someone to listen. He needed someone to hear his story. For an hour and a half I listened. The more I listened the more I watched and examined. He was finely dressed, but as he spoke I started to notice that all was not right.
His collar was stained with sweat, his pants were ill fitting, and his body was wrecked. Misshapen and broken. This was a man who had seen tough times. Who had seen terrible things. But he wasn't angry about it. He wasn't upset, or resentful at all. This was a man who had been to hell and back and laughed in the face of the devil. Spat in eyes of demons and came back with his head held high.
How was this possible? How did this little, broken man survive and triumph? His eyes were foggy, the blue had long since faded, but there was a fire there. A fire I wanted, and needed. So I listened on, trying to decode his stories, trying to learn the secret of his strength.
He was clearly homeless, crazy, and losing touch with reality. His words were slurring, and he stuttered. He went in circles, and doubled back. But I had to learn his secret.
His faith kept the darkness at bay. He kept saying the world is the devils domain now, and I thought it was mad ramblings, things a naysayer of apocalyptic reckoning would spout. But I discovered his secret. He knew there was darkness in the world, he knew there were demons and nightmares. But he also knew that in his faith he was protected.
We tried to exchange numbers so I could keep in touch and check up on this man who changed my life, and my day of hiding. But the number he gave was for a stranger. I lost an angel today, I dropped him off a couple blocks from where he approached me, and I pulled away. Instantly I turned around to see if he needed anything, and he was gone.
Stanley Palmer, you are a good man, and thank you for showing me yet another way to combat my own demons. I pray you are safe, where ever your wings may have taken you.
Sweet piece.
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