Category Archives: Fayetteville

Fayetteville, Medical, Mental Health, Personal

Wednesday Wins

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I parked at the Harp’s on Garland as I evaded the ongoing renovations to the store and parking lot. Getting out of the car and walking along the front of the building, I greeted one of the workers in Spanish. We traded comments and barbs. He pretended to hand me a shovel and said in Spanish, “If you want me to have a good day, you can have this.” I laughed as I pulled my shirt out of my waistband, revealing my exposed scar. “¡Me ganaste!” he said, even as he laughed. Yes, I did win that round.

I walked the long, challenging hills in the area, taking in the houses, plants, and people. If you want to feel your legs burn, try N. Hall Avenue or Vista off of Wedington. It was sublime, as the rising sun was overcast by clouds that diffused the light that you can only find in October. As I passed a yard whose perimeter was overgrown, I attempted to take a picture of a fox or coyote as it darted into the browning bushes with the red flowers. Its head is barely perceptible in the shadows.

I was grateful that I’d slept so well the night before; I didn’t stay at my apartment last night, and I’m thankful I didn’t. Despite seeing a counselor again yesterday for the first time in a while, anxiety crept up my spine like an imperceptible shadow. No matter how people sell you the idea of solitude, loneliness is its undesirable first cousin. People struggle against the notion that people flourish the most when they have people in their lives. I love introspection, reading, and writing. There’s a vast chasm between having people available and choosing solitude, though.

When I finished my long, circuitous walk, I passed a Razorback bus stop. A couple of dozen students were waiting impatiently. Almost all of them were staring down at their phones. When I exited Harps, I put my food in the tiny trunk compartment and left through the back parking lot, looping around the side road. On a whim, I stepped out and said, “Does anyone want a ride to campus?” I didn’t expect anyone to accept. Surprisingly, several people looked around at each other, wondering if they’d be judged for saying “Yes.” I said, “Despite how small this car looks, I can hold three of y’all in here.” Two guys and one girl stepped away from the pack, shrugging. I reached over and unlocked all my doors, as my car is manual everything. They hopped in. I said, “If you do not want to go to the same drop, talk among yourselves and decide where to go first.” They chattered away as I waited at the traffic light at the bottom of the long hill up to campus. They decided to all get out at the same building. As I drove, the girl explained to one of the riders in the back seat that she only had a slim laptop because she had photographed every page of her textbook. The two guys both had backpacks perched on their laps. “That’s genius,” one of them said. Indeed, it was. As I pulled up to the sidewalk to let them out, they thanked me. Though they probably waited for the bus without any enthusiasm, they’d been granted extra minutes for the morning. I hoped they used them well.

People ask me why I prefer old headphones instead of modern earbud ones. Part of it is comfort. But having wired ones allows me to accidentally drag everything out of my pocket clumsily when I pull my phone out. I’ve tried a few sets of wireless earbuds; so far, none have worked magic for me. It could be worse. I could choose to go old school and use a boombox. I’m not quite a boomer, though.

I have a couple of weird side effects from my surgery. One of them is an odd indentation a few inches above my belly button. The other is a valley where the scar sits. I’m eating much better, but I’m still at 150 lbs. No matter how active I am or optimistic, it’s hard to forget that surgeons removed a section of my bowels. It’s a special kind of vague anxiety that only those who’ve had it would understand.

Though I’d rather have never had surgery, I love the deepening scar. It’s a reminder that anything can happen at any time, a lesson I thought I’d mastered years ago. I was wrong. If anything might happen, it also encompasses moments of surprise and pleasure. Though I walked alone this morning, I saw beauty and felt the air around me. And by risking a bit of social awkwardness, I briefly talked to three optimistic students, all of whom are looking to the future. They probably don’t know how strenuously life will challenge them. And that’s a good thing on this October morning. There’s time for that later. Much later, I hope, for all of them and myself.

Love, X

Behavior, Fayetteville, Lemon Moment, Personal

Sunday Morning Hope

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Last night, I was out walking on Gregg Avenue later in the evening. Someone leaned out and shouted, “Hey X! You a**hole!” as they laughed. I couldn’t see who it was, but I waved enthusiastically. Only friends shout like that. It brightened my mood for a moment; it was much needed. The walk not only served as exercise but also as an escape. Like most escapes, it didn’t work; most tend to bring whatever’s in your head along for the ride. I envy those who seem to be able to deflect their hearts when necessary.

This morning, way before the sunrise, I got out of bed and walked the streets again within five minutes of arising. Reaching the end of the parking lot, I saw a man and a woman walking, the woman ahead of the man, her socked feet shuffling awkwardly. There’s a lot of questions in my head from that scene. I tried to imagine what events transpired to lead them into the early morning dark, one of them without shoes. They plodded along, devoid of any energy or spark. I soon outpaced them and left them far behind. They were on my mind, though.

Sundays mornings, I see evidence that people didn’t use their best judgment. Near Fossil Cove brewery, I noted an excessive number of beer cars and errant liquor bottles. A block down, someone’s ornate mailbox laid on the ground in tatters, probably from a speeding drunk driver approaching carelessly from the side road. On the opposite side of the road, I stopped and snapped a picture of the Banksy girl painted on the side of a railroad control box. The disparity of the message amidst the realities of the morning gripped me.
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Yesterday, as I exited my apartment, a neighbor said, “Hey X, I hope you don’t me asking, but my mother-in-law LOVES your blue lantern. Could you make her one?”

I paused, and said, “No.” I watched the woman try to gauge me. She failed.

I took the blue solar lantern made from an inverted hummingbird feeder and handed it to her. “No, but I will give you this one.” She smiled in surprise.

“Wait,” I told her. I pulled my other metal silhouette lantern from the hanger and handed that to her as she neared her door. “Take this, too.” I explained the rechargeable batteries and how to use them long-term.

She was so happy with the unexpected gifts. Though I was now left with no solar lanterns on my landing, I was happy, too. That’s not nothing.

It’s entirely a coincidence that I’d ordered two more sets of fairy lights on Wednesday. I love how the universe sometimes surprises me. Two incidents yesterday remind me that my neighbors are watching me in curiosity to see what projects I’m up to.
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Later in the morning, a neighbor headed out to walk to his job. The skies were ominous and ready to pour. “Hey, how about I give you a ride to work?” He accepted, and I spent a few minutes not only doing him a solid but was able to connect with him as we drove to his workplace and talked.
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Other parts of my day were both sublime and tumultuous. The dichotomy of these days never fails to surprise me and sometimes alarms me. I understand that my intelligence often fails me when I try to assimilate the lessons and use my experience to guide me. My experience in life isn’t a detailed roadmap. Like anyone else, my heart sometimes overrides the clear path in front of me.

But I walk on, literally and figuratively.

“There is always hope,” is a truth. Equally valid is that we have to confront the day with the practical tools and options available. We have hope for the future but also must live the minutes as they come. Instead of revising these few words, I’ll post them ‘as is,’ much in the way that life speeds along in front of us.

Love, X
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P.S. I’m adding a paragraph. As I posted this, the putt-putt of a moped outside drew my attention. A man stood by the dumpster, looking for treasure in the mountain of trash. I walked out and crossed the parking lot. “I’m the neighborhood weirdo,” I told him. He looked at me cautiously. Though I don’t have much money (now more than ever), I handed him a $20 bill. He said, “God bless you!” He smiled like the sunrise. “I am, if only I can find ways to see it,” I told him as I walked back to my apartment. I didn’t look back at him, because as happy as he was by the gift, I think he was about to get emotional.
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Art, Fayetteville, Opinion, Personal

Chalk It Up

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I had an extra tub of sidewalk chalk in my little car. Who doesn’t? I’ve had so many little adventures grabbing chalk and drawing for people who’ll never know who did it. Quick messages, words of encouragement, poetry, and odd notes to perplex those who happen upon them. The outside world is nothing if not surfaces, ones unfortunately left blank and colorless. If I find a bucket of chalk, crayons, or markers marked down, I grab a set.

Yesterday, I went to Dollar General to find cheap mixing bottles for my protein requirement. I bought another tub of chalk and a set of crayons and markers for a couple of bucks. A man was walking across in front of Lucky Luke’s bbq. He said, “Cool pin, man” as he looked at my shirt. I had money in my hand, as well as my Dollar General bags. I was on the way to the laundromat a couple of doors down to get what is commonly known as an “assload” of quarters. It’s one of the habits I’ve acquired living in an apartment without my own washer and dryer. “Do you need anything?” I asked him. I would have given him $10 if he had asked. “Nah, I’m good for today.” I stopped. “Hey, how about a tub of chalk? Draw something interesting, pass the time?” He didn’t hesitate. “Hell yes, I’d love a bucket of chalk. I haven’t touched chalk in years. My nephew and I will burn through this.” I handed him the bucket. I could see a little glimmer of the child he once was flickering on his face.

This morning, on a whim, I took the other bucket out and walked over to my downstairs neighbor. His door was open. His young son was already outside, riding around in circles, waiting impatiently on his dad. I handed the dad the chalk. He smiled. “Thanks!” he said. I almost told him it was for his son, but I’d rather see both of them out there covering the pavement and sidewalk with beautiful colors.

I saw them minutes later, riding toward the trail on Poplar.

No one is bored holding a stick of chalk – unless they wish to be. Blank canvases everywhere, waiting.

Love, X
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Art, DIY, Fayetteville, Food, Humor, Jewelry, Lemon Moment, Personal, Razorback Greenway, Weight Loss

Of Gunfire, Runners, Bacon & Beautification

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A gaggle of young runners made their way up Poplar toward the traffic light. I was outside near the crosswalk measuring for an address plaque I’m making for the apartment simplex. The last runner was struggling to catch up. “You won’t always be last,” I told him as he crossed Gregg. “I hate running!” He said. I laughed. “You won’t hate it the day you leave all of them behind you, though.” I gave him the thumbs up.

Around 8 last night, I heard weird popping noises. I didn’t think much of it. I was standing outside on the deck. Waking up this morning, I discovered that an unidentified idiot shot into the apartments by the trail on Poplar Street. Automatic gunfire, too. I can see the apartments and trail from the crosswalk outside the apartment. Y’all can scoff, but I wish I’d taken a walk last night. There’s no better adventure story than gunfire after sunset. Have you noticed that almost no nincompoops get up at 5 a.m., drink a cup of coffee, and start shooting? We need a better class of hooligans in Fayetteville! Also, bullets are expensive.

I bought four pieces of bacon in the work cafeteria this morning. (No, I’m not authorized to return to work yet. At least not PAID work.) It’s been a year since I had bacon. Bacon salt has been my salvation in the interim. When I got back to the apartment, I made lettuce and bacon wraps. I may have blacked out with pleasure for a moment.

I also left a surprise brooch for someone today. Nothing says, “Good morning!” as inexplicably as a surprise brooch. Today, I’m wearing a spectacular fleur-de-lis brooch that I found at Peace At Home. I’d not thought much about the symbol until recently. Like so many symbols, it’s an ancient one. When I chose the name “X,” I thought I was simplifying things. Lord, the number of things “X” can signify is astonishing, even though it is just a single letter. It’s nice having a name that looks the same regardless of direction.

Seeing someone’s ASL post this morning made me realize that people around me didn’t know I was saying “Please” a lot of the time. It may look like I’m rubbing my heart. I learned it from a deaf man who attempted to work at Cargill years ago. “Please” and “Thank you” are both great visuals, even in normal conversation – not that I’m sure what that is. People running away from me with their palms clamped firmly over their ears give me the wrong impression.

I finished the address plaque for the apartments. I used reflective numbers. And I couldn’t quite bring myself to NOT put a little bling and beauty on there in the form of a dragonfly. I also installed a nice solar light above it, either to illuminate the reflective numbers I chose – or so that the idiots shooting automatic weapons will have something other than my ass to aim at if they find themselves with an oversupply of bullets.

Other:
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While chatting with my case manager, I did offer to re-write my surgical report. It needs a plot twist and a little bit of pizzazz. And/or humor and brevity: “Patient failed to notice my approach as I used a #11 blade to gut him. We found a herniation near the appendix but this box of Cracker Jacks did not have a surprise.”
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A random internet person read my post about Tammy’s weight loss: “You have no idea how seeing you and your friend have motivated me. I think I have your incremental idea in my head now. I’ve already lost ten lbs, just by deciding to do a few small things each day. Such as choosing differently, doing exercises every hour while at work, and keeping my mouth shut as much as I can. You’re right. Food can’t get in there if it isn’t open!”
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Another person wrote me and asked me if this quote is mine: “Saying you aren’t photogenic is kinda like saying you’re better looking than all available evidence.” No, but I wish I had. It’s pithy and logical.
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A Bit Of Daily Motivation: “Have you stopped to think that somewhere there’s a tree growing that might one day become your coffin?”
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Love, X
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Exercise, Fayetteville, Health, Lemon Moment, Personal

The Beautiful Mile

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I’m adjusting to taking several shorter walks instead of long, meandering ones. Instead of pushups, I opt to find a new place to put my feet if I go out. It’s led me to see so many beautiful houses. Fayetteville is packed with artfully done architecture and stunning homes. Even in areas where the houses have been neglected, I find surprises to admire.

This morning, a woman was out on her wide, covered porch. She was smoking, and a large decorative mug was on the wood railing. “Your house is incredible, ma’am,” I said as I walked past. “Is it?” she answered. “I forget. You probably have a better view of it than I ever do.” Because I’m all about the metaphor, I replied, “I think that’s true about everyone and everything. We get proximity-blind to the things around us.” She laughed, nodding. I waved as I walked away.

A block further along, a dog of some sort, a mix of indeterminate origin, sat on its haunches next to the sidewalk, not too far from a fragrant magnolia. It watched me approach. No owner was in sight, and only one light was on inside the nearest house. The dog wore a nice collar. Without caring if the dog decided to bite me, I kneeled and held my hands palms up. The dog wagged its tail and lunged at me, its tongue licking my arms and then my face. I let it show me affection as I petted its head and flanks. I laughed. I carefully sat on the edge of the sidewalk and the lawn. The dog laid across my legs as I petted him. I sat there for several minutes until I feared I might cramp; I hated to break the reverie of the unexpected interaction. As I stood up, the dog licked my fingers. I scratched its ears. It did not follow me as I walked away. I’ll come back by on a random morning, hoping to see him.

Though I probably walked only a mile on that short excursion, it was exactly what I needed. The moon shone brightly above, and the chill of the air was calming without wind to make my bones chatter.

I am “taking it easy.” I’d rather be at work, surrounded by turmoil and activity.

I took this awkward selfie this morning. I’m wearing a nifty phoenix brooch that I modified myself, as well as my favorite rip-shirt. You can see that my custom Dumb & Dumber wood print to the right gives me inspiration, now more than ever. My nice incision reminds me to be careful, especially if I see a surgeon sneaking up on me with a scalpel. It’s okay to look at the weird, jagged scar. It’s a part of me forever. Everything is, in part because I’m dedicated to remembering that no matter how well things are going, life is both beautiful and capricious.

Let the day begin.

Allegory, Fayetteville, Mental Health, Personal

Crepuscular X

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One of the dualities I struggle with is how beautiful the afternoons are here, despite the fact that I live in an aging apartment simplex. Amidst the traffic and people winding down from their days of obligatory toil and commerce, light and birdsong fill this place. It’s a time for introspection and casual hellos. I smell beans, pasta, undefined meat, and like most evenings, cannabis and cigarette smoke. I listen to the insects; even they know fall is carpeting itself around them. I saw only one hummingbird this evening. It flew down to the railing near me and then darted two feet above, perching on one of the two craft hooks I left hanging on the upper canopy. It remained for at least two minutes. When it left, it flew down a foot away from my face, humming and hovering before it made its departure.

I watch. I listen. I think.

If I go back inside, I’ll hear the backward clock ticking. I love backward clocks, but even the fact that they run in reverse is some sort of metaphor.

Evenings are the time for togetherness. It’s been that way for millennia. The sun’s slow surrender signals a retreat into homes and shared spaces.

I misjudged the quiet tonight. It is a blessing and it is a vexation.

My usual tactics of a long midnight walk or of untold pushups are out of reach, at least for the near future. I got great news from my doctor today. As contradictory as it sounds, the good news in some way amplified my need to be surrounded by sound, voices, and touch.

I am grateful to be here. So many others are facing ridiculous obstacles and certainties. I got a temporary pass.

The train arrives, claxons, stopping traffic for ninety-four seconds, the red alternating warning lights shining and reflecting on each car as it passes, the two opposing left-turn lanes backing up in frustration. Its siren recedes until I can hear it no longer. It’s replaced by the echoing barks of dogs, in homes I can’t quite picture.

I count sirens and ambulances. With so many people around me, both are inexorable.

I’m already futurizing, thinking of tomorrow. I’ll get to see the sunrise and feel the chill that’s predicted. My shoes are already laid out, socks on top, inviting me to go find a new adventure.

I can’t be me without all of y’all. And if you think of it for a moment, ask that the sunrise greet me in relative minutes.

Love, X
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Fayetteville, New Word, Personal, Uncategorized

“God is the boat. You’re the Oar.”

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On a long detour, I met the coolest cat working as a cashier at a Convenient-But-Costly store. It was the first time I saw him there. Funny, charismatic, and engaging.

“You could make a fortune in sales,” I told him.

“Too many tattoos. But thanks, you think so?” He smiled.

“Without a doubt. Tattoos don’t mean anything. You can’t teach your kind of engagement.” I meant it when I said it and I watched my words hit him a little bit.

He said something I didn’t quite catch, although I thought I did.

I said, “God is the boat. You’re the oar.”

He stopped as he was about to reply.

“That’s a great quote. Is it yours?”

“I don’t know, honestly. It popped out because I misheard your last comment.”

“I’m going to lay that one on my preacher when I see him.” He repeated the phrase back to me. He laughed. “And thanks for the compliment.”

“You’ve got the attitude, now find a way to launch your life. If this is what you love, keep on doing it.”

It was a weirdly deep conversation to have over a counter that usually held cigarettes, energy drinks, and fat-laden goodies.

Eats, Fayetteville, Food, Health, Opinion, Personal, Weight Loss

My Date With Fast Food

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Because I’d dropped to too low of a weight, I decided to have my first full meal at a fast food place: Burger King. I ate an impossible Whopper and fries. I’ve eaten the patty from an impossible burger about once a month, but never the sandwich and especially not french fries. I don’t count calories, but the Impossible Whopper is about 600-800 calories. I love them. (The calories and the burger.)

Most people who skip eating such things for a while say that eating it the first time makes them queasy. Not me. It was delicious. I didn’t feel nauseous. And I don’t feel guilty. I’ve said 1,000 times that I don’t believe that foods are intrinsically healthy vs unhealthy; it’s just quantity and frequency that cause us problems. I’m rounding the corner in a few weeks to making my health plan succeed for a year. I’ve paid a hard price for all of this and don’t want to compound those failures by derailing my success.

Even though I wasn’t hungry, I just ate a healthy meal of fruits, vegetables, and yes, meat. I also drank a V-8 and ate a banana. I drink 1 or two V-8 every day, take fiber, the best multivitamin I can find, and a couple of other supplements that were recommended for someone like me with my activity level.

I was so proud that I’d listened to someone who was telling me to “pull up” on the eating scarcity. Instead of conveying that message, I inadvertently came across as snarky. The dumb lesson is that I communicated with a picture instead of an explanation. I thought, for once, I’d forego torturing someone with my inability to say something simply. 🙂 Yeah, I failed. It turns out, sometimes needless explanations are preferable to succinct ones.

I didn’t eat Burger King to make a point: I ate it because it’s delicious and a great way to eat calories.

I went to Harps over by the campus a little bit ago. I finally bought a package of Oscar Meyer Smokies, which for a lazy vegetarian, are about the best snack item I can imagine.

I also limited myself to 500 pushups today. That’s another success, too.

The people, the noise, the traffic, the joy of people celebrating. I’m not a sports fan, but I was taken with the sheer enthusiasm in all the hubbub. It was so contagious even I’m beginning to believe we could pull off an upset.

Fayetteville, Personal

Friday Afternoon Melody

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Sitting at my desk around 4:20, I heard “Save Your Tears” by The Weeknd being belted out. I loved “Blinding Lights” the first time I heard it. It didn’t take long for “Save Your Tears” to become my favorite. It was the last song I listened to as I fell asleep last night.

I looked at my devices to see if one of them was on. 1 of my 2 giant TVs displayed the Blink camera view. But the sound is down on that. Or so I thought. It dawned on me that I was hearing it twice: both through the window and through the Blink camera streaming to my tv. I stepped out on the deck to watch the brother and sister from downstairs walking across the parking lot, heading home after school, both of them belting out the song with enthusiasm. They were pretty good, even though they were clowning around.

“That’s one of my favorite songs. I love it and listen to it on repeat sometimes. Y’all are pretty good.”

We got a good laugh out of it.

The sister said, “Nah, my voice is cracking.”

“You never know,” I said. “You could be a singer. It just takes practice and a willingness to belt it out just like that.”

Earlier, I met my neighbor, Noah, while I finished laundry. He told me about himself. We share something in common, too: he’s not a fan of Johnson and for many of the same reasons.

I don’t use the camera as a security device. I use it as a window, staring out into the open world. Game weeks bring a lot of traffic. I’ll try to remember that each vehicle is occupied by someone living a life of melody, even if we don’t hear it.

Sometimes, it treats me to a melody.

Fayetteville, Personal

89,000+ Potential Friends

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I left work and walked down the hill to the lower parking lot, feeling the sun and the cooler temperature soothe me. Work was fast-paced and physical today; I walked for miles before work, as well as obsessively did an insane number of push-ups at random intervals.

Because I’m not the brightest, I didn’t know that I had Google Fit on my phone until last weekend. Today’s tally by 1 p.m.? 25,000 steps. Please forgive me if it sounds like a humblebrag. The truth is that I woke up early this morning and felt compelled to wander the streets; evidently, all of them. 🙂

Walking down the hill, I saw a man with a black backpack standing at the Razorback bus stop. I said, “Hello,” as I passed him. “How are you doing?”
He returned my greeting and said, “Good, except waiting on the bus is a pain today.”

I crossed the plant barrier along the outer rim of the parking lot. For a moment, I thought I had my car stolen, though. At that point, it dawned on me that I parked in the parking garage this morning. (Stolen by myself and hidden from my memory.) I turned and went back up the hill and found my car. I assume it was mine, as the key worked. The odds of there being two tiny Chevy Sparks that color of spa blue was slim. After walking so much, I didn’t care if I had the wrong car.

I turned and drove back toward the lower lot. The man with the backpack still stood there. I turned into the parking lot, exited the car, and said, “Hey, this is going to sound weird, but do you want a ride instead of waiting for the bus?”

He looked at me with a bit of surprise on his face. “How do you know which direction I’m going?”

Without missing a beat, I said, “Pam told me.”

He was confused. “Who is Pam?”

“Exactly. I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Doesn’t matter where.” It seemed like a good gesture.

He bent and picked up his backpack and walked over, and got inside the car. “These are small, aren’t they?”

“I get a different car each time I gain or lose weight,” I said. “I should have been driving a Tahoe until last October.” I laughed.

I introduced myself and tapped my work badge to show him that my name is X. He told me his name was John.

“Where to?” I asked. “This is like non-profit Uber, so make your wish.”

“I’d like to go to Walmart, actually. It’s not where I was headed, but I can catch the bus again from there. Is that okay?”

“Yes, lord knows they need the money.” We both laughed.

He told me that he is a part-time student at the university. He wanted to go back full-time but couldn’t afford it this semester.

“It’s a long story,” he told me.

“Yes, and it’s a long life,” I said, laughing. “There’s not really a deadline for school. Keep going, even if you can only afford a class or two at a time. You’re going to burn through the years anyway.” I didn’t tell him I knew this from experience; the grey hair on my face and head probably made that clear.

I drove him to the Walmart by the mall. As he thanked me for the ride, I told him, “I’m going to Home Depot to return a can of paint. If you want, I can drive back over and pick you up.”

“Nah, that’s kind, but I can’t ask you to do that,” John objected.

“You didn’t ask me. I offered. It’s not out of my way.”

He thought about it. “Okay. I shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes, but I’ll be by the garden center side of the store.”

He walked toward the Walmart entrance, and I risked life and limb crossing over to the opposite side of the road where Home Depot is. The traffic in that area is hair-raising on the best of days.

Thirty minutes later, I saw John standing where he’d said he’d be. He didn’t have a Walmart bag, so I assumed his purchases were in his backpack.

“Where to? It better be somewhere interesting,” I told him.

“To campus, if you don’t mind.”

“Mind? I’d love to see what’s going on there and ponder that it’s been 35 years since I first attended school there.” That’s a sobering thought, that expanse of time filled with a lot of living.

While I drove, John asked me about my name and the backstory. That turned into quite the conversational odyssey.

“That is cool, X.”

I dropped him off in one of the campus parking lots.

“Nice talking to you, and thank you so much for the rides. Most people wouldn’t pick up strangers, X.” John smiled.

“You’re not a stranger anymore, John. Besides, Pam vouched for you.”

He laughed unexpectedly.

I drove to the apartment, thinking about John and his story and how many thousands of people live a similar life here in Fayetteville. They arrived with plans and a timeline; life intervened, and they adapted.

Haven’t we all?

Love, X