I just said goodbye to a friend

I just said goodbye to a friend

His wife died late in the Fall

It was snowing

His son returned that Winter and told him he felt it was best for him that he move to 

Washington State to be with him

So he and his wife could better care for him

What I asked

I knew he had cared for his wife during her long illness

I knew his heart broke when she died

I often saw him sitting in his studio after her death

He wasnt working

The potbelly stove was cold and unlit 

I never saw him in his studio when he wasnt feverishly at work with his paintbrushes 

and oils and the stove grinning with flames

He was more fun to watch than cartoons

I had known him since I was eight and took on the neighborhood paper route

I knocked on his Prairie Avenue door late one winter afternoon and introduced myself

Im your new paperboy  Is there anything I can do to make the Chicago Tribune

and the Chicago Sun-Times delivery better for you

I know you know young man that I only receive the Trib

Yes sir  but I also said  Though you might be better informed if you knew both sides 

of the story

A smart guy huh

Yes sir I read both papers myself

(and I did  I read them as I walked my delivery route pulling my red wagon stacked 

with papers behind me)

He bought a subscription to the Sun-Times

Young man

Yes sir

Do you cut lawns

I do I said I cut lawns Edge sidewalks Rake leaves Shovel snow too

He told me if I would like to make a couple of bucks to come back on the weekend 

and I could cut his lawn

Yes sir

We shook on it

I stood on the street curb and watched his face through the cab window as he and 

his son were to drive to O’Hare for their flight to Seattle Washington

I had to look up Seattle in my National Geographic magazines

It looked like a pretty place  A place where he could paint his landscapes again

He called them impressionistic

As the cab pulled away he waved wistfully

Behind his eyeglasses he was weeping

I hadnt seen a man cry before

He really touched me

Men didnt cry

I cried as I walked home

We had talked before he left about seeing each other again

We didnt

It wasnt that we didnt mean it

But he wasnt well and I was only twelve

I liked him best whenever we talked outside together

He knelt on one knee and called me young man

He said that was called mutual respect

He said You know inside me  Im no older than you

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