gigondas

'The wealthiest person
is a pauper sometimes,
compared to the man
with the satisfied mind.."

Kenny was 46 when he died. He was driving the first new car he had ever owned. A stranger needed a ride. He believed in helping people.

Dropping off the stranger, he encountered a stranger who, gun in hand, demanded he vacate the car. Kenny floored it. A stray shot severed an artery in his leg. He died in a minute. He continued, unconsciously, to accelerate and the car crashed, headlong, into a trailer. Forty five miles an hour.

I came into the office and my mother was in a corner, a semi-circle of her co-workers surrounding her. She had called me ten minutes earlier, incoherent and screaming. She weakly flapped forward when she saw me, like a child wanting the comfort of a parent. One of her co-workers, a stranger, had to tell me.

"Your Uncle, Kenny, well, he..."

It was all I needed to know.



He had never owned a lot of things. He was a simple man. His smile beatific, unposed and reflected in the soft cadence of his voice.

The picture at his funeral (closed casket) was perfect. Black and white. Smiling.

"When my life is ended, my time has run out
My trials and my loved ones, I'll leave them no doubt
But one thing's for certain, when it comes my time
I'll leave this old world with a satisfied mind..."

I've been getting cold feet. Scared to move. I hate this feeling. I have to go.