Changed.

This afternoon I finished my run – certain I would die of thirst.  One more block. 3 houses away. 2 houses to water…

“How far DO you run?”  says the quiet voice from the front porch.  Rocking in a once white wicker chair sits my neighbor.  I have been meaning to catch him, to give him a hug.  Today he found me.  His wife died just days ago.

He sat tapping a nearly empty cup of water on his knee, as he described how she died.  How much he missed her.  How hard the nights were now – water splashes out running down his leg.  He keeps tapping…as if the tapping keeps the tears in.

What he misses most…a simple touch of her hand.  A pat on the head…knowing she is there.

He sits looking back, I sit on the hard concrete step looking forward.

I listen more. Then, silence.

I promise zucchini bread and walk passed the one house between us.

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