All the sadness of the world
Standing with my father waiting for the train.
Two forty year old friends walk up.
Asks us for money. I say no. My Dad says no.
Falls down, flat on face. Spills his beer. Helped up by his friend. He asks us for money again. My Dad, feeling bad, gives him a dollar.
At some point — his friend leaves — he is crying. He tells us why. His mother is dying. Oh. Oh. Oh.
Train is coming. He wanders close to the train track. My father yells for him to come back. He does.
His mother is dying. He is crying. A grown man. Drunk in himself.
After. Sitting on the train, fear for him, will he make it home?
Did he try to take someone’s phone as he left?
Child playing with someone else’s ticket. No sense of property yet, just curiosity.
Deep and rumbling anxiety. Bouncing back and forth in my mind.
Back to New York. Television sitcoms. Baseball games. Erudite magazines. Can’t sleep. Stay up till 3 reading reading.
All the sadness of the world. His mother is dying.