SOULFUL HUNGER
A SHORT STORY BY RICHARD SWAIN
Thursday morning arrived on schedule, just as everything in Andrew’s life moves forward on a precise timetable. For a moment, I considered observing his day with my eyes closed, but compelled myself to look closely with a hopeless expectation of an altered action in his decidedly dull and dreary life. If it could help, I would take credit for calling his life dull and dreary, but Andrew receives this honor as he chews upon these two words like a hungry child.
The alarm clock was a perfect choice as it came with two settings, and a simple touch of either the “1” button or the “2” button will compel a day forward. This Thursday was a “2” day, and I readied myself for the 7:30 a.m. ring tone. Andrew had toyed with a music wake up, but found early morning melodious sounds a surprising irritation.
Two years in the Marine Corps was not a pleasant memory for Andrew, but he could look back and credit driving trucks for giving him a source of income, and more to our current day, a discipline of orderly conduct. The alarm rings, the alarm is shut off, he rises and immediately makes his bed in a manner that would please Good Housekeeping. I often wish someone could see his bed with the fitted corner tucks of sheet and blanket, and a bedspread so flat and smooth that a flipped quarter would bounce. But alas, only the two of us appreciate his work until torn apart at nightfall.
As you might already guess, a number “2” day is quite different from a number “1” day. Andrew once considered if he preferred one day over the other, but it led to no conclusion and is therefore a forgotten moment. If I could lend a hand, I would happily go the kitchen, retrieve the small frying pan and turn on the burner, but perhaps we should move forward a little faster before everyone is bored. Here are the answers you seek. A number “2” day skips shaving and shower, offers egg, toast, and coffee. A number “1” day brings an earlier wake up, and fortunately a shower and shave, breakfast is cereal, fruit, and tea. As I am privy to Andrew’s thoughts, I assure you he would not wish this routine on anyone else, but is seemingly quite unable to change his own mindset or actions.
If he had a dog, Andrew could look forward to eager barking by the outside door with a wagging tail signaling a new adventure. Truth be told, the dog idea did not work out too well. Initially, I was excited about a plan that could bring forth both a companion and an outdoor activity, but nervousness quickly overcame me as I saw the yellow pad pulled from the desk drawer. You see, Andrew overthinks any new possibility to death, and this was no exception. The list of dog variables was added to and subtracted from on a daily basis for two weeks. We are not talking about just breed, size, gender, color, care, training, but add in collar or harness, type of bed, location of bed, oh well, you get my point.
A yellow pad approach to decision making is a fine idea he learned from his mother. His father left the family with the minister’s wife when Andrew started kindergarten, so it fell to his mother to solely care for and guide his formative years. I was not surprised when attending church was quietly abandoned, and I give her great credit for her best efforts in raising her son as best she could. She passed when Andrew was in his military training.
Sometimes strict routine can be a positive, as in morning walks to the park several miles away. I focus my energy on any possible encounter with another soul, be it person or animal, that can shake a dulled mind. You see, Andrew believes he suffers from heartburn, while I believe he suffers from isolation. The symptoms are the same, a burning pain in your chest, just behind your breastbone.
I use the term park lightly, when in fact, this oasis is in reality a stunning botanical garden with wonderful water elements surrounding plants from around the world. Again, it has been my dream that something or someone within these 58 acres would ignite a fire within this man. Walking the grounds, we both have the habit of counting the number of species, and attempting to remember the common and scientific names. Today, as I do every day, I will his legs forward toward the sign that advertises volunteer opportunities. I am sure he has it memorized, as I surely do. Please, I say to myself, take a risk, go to an orientation, even if it is a weekly session of pulling weeds. YES! Today he wrote his name and email address on the sheet. I dare not look ahead for fear of disappointment, but will celebrate this positive step whatever the outcome.
From his brief church days Andrew learned the value of sitting at the back of any gathering. Easier to stay unnoticed and quick to sneak away was his motto. It was a number “1” day when his routine was altered, much to my shock and amazement. Why, he thought, take a shower when he might be put to work on this first outing. With sweaty palms resting on his knees, he tried to scan the rows of attendees without moving his head or catching any eye contact. I can only shake my head when I have to hear his thoughts, not too impressive of a group, too young, too old, too this, or too that. With such criticisms spinning in the air, we were both startled when a voice said “Hi, my name is Louise.”
A quick head turn and an instinctive “I’m Andrew” was a good start. How quickly though the mind starts spinning with such fine thoughts like, I should have taken a shower, who speaks next, I think she is pretty, is she pretty? He was saved by her question “What are you going to do?” There was a pause, and I am red-faced to think he remembered my thought, when he blurted out “I may just pull weeds.” Oh no, she gave a loud laugh that almost sounded like a snort. As a self-imposed recluse, Andrew does not have a lot of experience detecting the nuance of something like a laugh, or was that a snicker? Fortunately the program speaker saved the moment, and both looked forward as introductions of garden leadership commenced. Andrew and Louise would both say this was an interesting and informative orientation. Actually, to be perfectly clear, I cannot pretend to understand her thoughts, but I did observe many head nods and several smiles. As the presentation concluded and a brief goodbye was exchanged by the cookie table, each went their own way.
I thought the next seven days moved forward at a normal pace, but Andrew felt his watch was infected with molasses. As you can count, this would be a number “2” day and perfect for missing a shave and a shower if one would be outside in the sun performing manual labor. Again, my stalwart friend surprised me when he prepared his morning as if going to a wedding. Once in the garden, he moved to the main lawn where the volunteers were gathering around various signs indicating work options. “Weed Control” was a smaller group and Andrew stood looking down at blades of grass with his hands in his pockets. A few more folks joined his crew when his heart took a bounce as a familiar voice at his back announced “Hello again master weed puller.”
Andrew has a very special memory of his high school graduation. The ceremony, his mother showering him with praise, the dinner with more expressions of his achievement and bright opportunities ahead. This current day in the garden, with something as mundane as pulling weeds, was just as special as that graduation memory. Check that thought, today is more exciting, please don’t screw it up he admonished himself.
The smell of soil turned, the fragrance of the flowers, physical exertion, and most of all conversation with Louise was a balm to his soul. They lingered around the snack table at the close of volunteer time, with neither party feeling a need to rush off. A number of topics were covered in brief sentences and just the right close, “See you next week.”
Forget dull and dreary, my guy seemed like a new man. The number “2” button lost all allure and Amazon deliveries were a regular occurrence with clothing, household items, and several self-improvement books. Andrew started a list of questions on his yellow pad with the headline “Louise.” Ask for her telephone number, what is her email address, and invite her to dinner.
Weeks later, Louise invited Andrew to a party at her condo celebrating her niece and nephew on their 13th birthday. The twins were both at a difficult stage in early adolescence, with the absence of a father at home and a mother too stressed with overwhelming responsibilities. Andrew had shared a little about his fatherless childhood and Louise believed Andrew and the teens could hit it off. Perhaps it was too much too soon, or as Andrew stewed in his discomfort, who does she think I am, some kind of father figure? Finally he was able to escape and walked home with building negative thoughts on getting involved with other people.
Over the next two weeks, Andrew was on an emotional roller coaster. Initially, he wallowed in self pity, striking out at the perceived unfairness of his life. Having missed the next volunteer opportunity, he would not return a call from Louise inquiring if he was OK. He reached a low point with a bad dream that shook him with its vividness. He was locked in a small room with nothing but a stool and a small table. Stacked on the table were ten yellow pads and a stubby pencil with no eraser. His one instruction was to list five reasons to be grateful. Placing the top pad in front of him he wrote a number 1 on the first page. At this point his mind seemed to freeze. Unable to even doodle on the paper he flung the pad across the floor and reached for the second pad. Each attempt gave only the ability to write a number 1, and with all ten pads strewn around the room, he cried out in anguish.
At 2:45 in the early morning, sweaty and exhausted, he turned on the light at his living room desk and retrieved his yellow pad. Glaring back at him was the page headed “Louise.” He shuddered at the sight of a new list titled “Pros & Cons.” At first he was grateful to see more on the plus side than on the negative side, but quickly saw the cons were a reflection of his own character and mindset. Quirky, who could match him. Lacking motivation, are you kidding me Mr. Do Nothing. Point by point he felt a cleansing building within that brought a renewed appreciation for Louise and a constructive admonishment of his actions or just as appropriate, his inaction. At 4:00 a.m. he stood and stretched his arms upward, walked into the kitchen, and tossed the yellow pad into the trash.
I was glowing with pride and excitement as my man was standing at the front door, unannounced and holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers. After the tentative knock, the door was opened with a small crack and a plaintive “Yes, who is it?” “It’s Andrew” was the reply. The door was pulled wide, “Just kidding stranger, of course it’s you, about time!”
Was this afternoon even better than the first weed pulling day? Yes. When had he ever kissed a girl beyond his mother where the moment was sacred. The answer is never. Laughter filled the room, plans were shared back and forth, and of course more kisses. Andrew said he wanted to spend time with the twins and thought he could be a valued team member.
As I said earlier, I dare not look ahead, but will take each day as it comes. I have known Andrew from his first breath fifty years ago, and our journey has taken many twists and turns. What is different today, different from any previous day, is a soul being nourished with a deep and satisfying gratefulness.
RICHARD SWAIN
A SHORT STORY BY RICHARD SWAIN
Thursday morning arrived on schedule, just as everything in Andrew’s life moves forward on a precise timetable. For a moment, I considered observing his day with my eyes closed, but compelled myself to look closely with a hopeless expectation of an altered action in his decidedly dull and dreary life. If it could help, I would take credit for calling his life dull and dreary, but Andrew receives this honor as he chews upon these two words like a hungry child.
The alarm clock was a perfect choice as it came with two settings, and a simple touch of either the “1” button or the “2” button will compel a day forward. This Thursday was a “2” day, and I readied myself for the 7:30 a.m. ring tone. Andrew had toyed with a music wake up, but found early morning melodious sounds a surprising irritation.
Two years in the Marine Corps was not a pleasant memory for Andrew, but he could look back and credit driving trucks for giving him a source of income, and more to our current day, a discipline of orderly conduct. The alarm rings, the alarm is shut off, he rises and immediately makes his bed in a manner that would please Good Housekeeping. I often wish someone could see his bed with the fitted corner tucks of sheet and blanket, and a bedspread so flat and smooth that a flipped quarter would bounce. But alas, only the two of us appreciate his work until torn apart at nightfall.
As you might already guess, a number “2” day is quite different from a number “1” day. Andrew once considered if he preferred one day over the other, but it led to no conclusion and is therefore a forgotten moment. If I could lend a hand, I would happily go the kitchen, retrieve the small frying pan and turn on the burner, but perhaps we should move forward a little faster before everyone is bored. Here are the answers you seek. A number “2” day skips shaving and shower, offers egg, toast, and coffee. A number “1” day brings an earlier wake up, and fortunately a shower and shave, breakfast is cereal, fruit, and tea. As I am privy to Andrew’s thoughts, I assure you he would not wish this routine on anyone else, but is seemingly quite unable to change his own mindset or actions.
If he had a dog, Andrew could look forward to eager barking by the outside door with a wagging tail signaling a new adventure. Truth be told, the dog idea did not work out too well. Initially, I was excited about a plan that could bring forth both a companion and an outdoor activity, but nervousness quickly overcame me as I saw the yellow pad pulled from the desk drawer. You see, Andrew overthinks any new possibility to death, and this was no exception. The list of dog variables was added to and subtracted from on a daily basis for two weeks. We are not talking about just breed, size, gender, color, care, training, but add in collar or harness, type of bed, location of bed, oh well, you get my point.
A yellow pad approach to decision making is a fine idea he learned from his mother. His father left the family with the minister’s wife when Andrew started kindergarten, so it fell to his mother to solely care for and guide his formative years. I was not surprised when attending church was quietly abandoned, and I give her great credit for her best efforts in raising her son as best she could. She passed when Andrew was in his military training.
Sometimes strict routine can be a positive, as in morning walks to the park several miles away. I focus my energy on any possible encounter with another soul, be it person or animal, that can shake a dulled mind. You see, Andrew believes he suffers from heartburn, while I believe he suffers from isolation. The symptoms are the same, a burning pain in your chest, just behind your breastbone.
I use the term park lightly, when in fact, this oasis is in reality a stunning botanical garden with wonderful water elements surrounding plants from around the world. Again, it has been my dream that something or someone within these 58 acres would ignite a fire within this man. Walking the grounds, we both have the habit of counting the number of species, and attempting to remember the common and scientific names. Today, as I do every day, I will his legs forward toward the sign that advertises volunteer opportunities. I am sure he has it memorized, as I surely do. Please, I say to myself, take a risk, go to an orientation, even if it is a weekly session of pulling weeds. YES! Today he wrote his name and email address on the sheet. I dare not look ahead for fear of disappointment, but will celebrate this positive step whatever the outcome.
From his brief church days Andrew learned the value of sitting at the back of any gathering. Easier to stay unnoticed and quick to sneak away was his motto. It was a number “1” day when his routine was altered, much to my shock and amazement. Why, he thought, take a shower when he might be put to work on this first outing. With sweaty palms resting on his knees, he tried to scan the rows of attendees without moving his head or catching any eye contact. I can only shake my head when I have to hear his thoughts, not too impressive of a group, too young, too old, too this, or too that. With such criticisms spinning in the air, we were both startled when a voice said “Hi, my name is Louise.”
A quick head turn and an instinctive “I’m Andrew” was a good start. How quickly though the mind starts spinning with such fine thoughts like, I should have taken a shower, who speaks next, I think she is pretty, is she pretty? He was saved by her question “What are you going to do?” There was a pause, and I am red-faced to think he remembered my thought, when he blurted out “I may just pull weeds.” Oh no, she gave a loud laugh that almost sounded like a snort. As a self-imposed recluse, Andrew does not have a lot of experience detecting the nuance of something like a laugh, or was that a snicker? Fortunately the program speaker saved the moment, and both looked forward as introductions of garden leadership commenced. Andrew and Louise would both say this was an interesting and informative orientation. Actually, to be perfectly clear, I cannot pretend to understand her thoughts, but I did observe many head nods and several smiles. As the presentation concluded and a brief goodbye was exchanged by the cookie table, each went their own way.
I thought the next seven days moved forward at a normal pace, but Andrew felt his watch was infected with molasses. As you can count, this would be a number “2” day and perfect for missing a shave and a shower if one would be outside in the sun performing manual labor. Again, my stalwart friend surprised me when he prepared his morning as if going to a wedding. Once in the garden, he moved to the main lawn where the volunteers were gathering around various signs indicating work options. “Weed Control” was a smaller group and Andrew stood looking down at blades of grass with his hands in his pockets. A few more folks joined his crew when his heart took a bounce as a familiar voice at his back announced “Hello again master weed puller.”
Andrew has a very special memory of his high school graduation. The ceremony, his mother showering him with praise, the dinner with more expressions of his achievement and bright opportunities ahead. This current day in the garden, with something as mundane as pulling weeds, was just as special as that graduation memory. Check that thought, today is more exciting, please don’t screw it up he admonished himself.
The smell of soil turned, the fragrance of the flowers, physical exertion, and most of all conversation with Louise was a balm to his soul. They lingered around the snack table at the close of volunteer time, with neither party feeling a need to rush off. A number of topics were covered in brief sentences and just the right close, “See you next week.”
Forget dull and dreary, my guy seemed like a new man. The number “2” button lost all allure and Amazon deliveries were a regular occurrence with clothing, household items, and several self-improvement books. Andrew started a list of questions on his yellow pad with the headline “Louise.” Ask for her telephone number, what is her email address, and invite her to dinner.
Weeks later, Louise invited Andrew to a party at her condo celebrating her niece and nephew on their 13th birthday. The twins were both at a difficult stage in early adolescence, with the absence of a father at home and a mother too stressed with overwhelming responsibilities. Andrew had shared a little about his fatherless childhood and Louise believed Andrew and the teens could hit it off. Perhaps it was too much too soon, or as Andrew stewed in his discomfort, who does she think I am, some kind of father figure? Finally he was able to escape and walked home with building negative thoughts on getting involved with other people.
Over the next two weeks, Andrew was on an emotional roller coaster. Initially, he wallowed in self pity, striking out at the perceived unfairness of his life. Having missed the next volunteer opportunity, he would not return a call from Louise inquiring if he was OK. He reached a low point with a bad dream that shook him with its vividness. He was locked in a small room with nothing but a stool and a small table. Stacked on the table were ten yellow pads and a stubby pencil with no eraser. His one instruction was to list five reasons to be grateful. Placing the top pad in front of him he wrote a number 1 on the first page. At this point his mind seemed to freeze. Unable to even doodle on the paper he flung the pad across the floor and reached for the second pad. Each attempt gave only the ability to write a number 1, and with all ten pads strewn around the room, he cried out in anguish.
At 2:45 in the early morning, sweaty and exhausted, he turned on the light at his living room desk and retrieved his yellow pad. Glaring back at him was the page headed “Louise.” He shuddered at the sight of a new list titled “Pros & Cons.” At first he was grateful to see more on the plus side than on the negative side, but quickly saw the cons were a reflection of his own character and mindset. Quirky, who could match him. Lacking motivation, are you kidding me Mr. Do Nothing. Point by point he felt a cleansing building within that brought a renewed appreciation for Louise and a constructive admonishment of his actions or just as appropriate, his inaction. At 4:00 a.m. he stood and stretched his arms upward, walked into the kitchen, and tossed the yellow pad into the trash.
I was glowing with pride and excitement as my man was standing at the front door, unannounced and holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers. After the tentative knock, the door was opened with a small crack and a plaintive “Yes, who is it?” “It’s Andrew” was the reply. The door was pulled wide, “Just kidding stranger, of course it’s you, about time!”
Was this afternoon even better than the first weed pulling day? Yes. When had he ever kissed a girl beyond his mother where the moment was sacred. The answer is never. Laughter filled the room, plans were shared back and forth, and of course more kisses. Andrew said he wanted to spend time with the twins and thought he could be a valued team member.
As I said earlier, I dare not look ahead, but will take each day as it comes. I have known Andrew from his first breath fifty years ago, and our journey has taken many twists and turns. What is different today, different from any previous day, is a soul being nourished with a deep and satisfying gratefulness.
RICHARD SWAIN