McDonalds Notes
My psychologist
suggested I get more involved in life. I drove around the city the next day
trying to grasp the concept, looking both right and left, not just down the
road. Hungry, I stopped at a McDonalds, sitting at a table with my bacon and
egg something. Life began to unfold. A group of elderly men sat in front of me,
about 5 of them. They seemed settled with life, chatting about whatever old
people do. There was one empty chair. Each time the door to the restaurant
opened, they all turned and looked. A member of the flock was missing.
In the far
corner of the restaurant, a woman with long legs, young, and in-shape sat. Three
uncontrollable children swirled about her. Like an orchestra leader, she somehow
kept them partially in place. I noticed a star tattoo on her leg and when she
bent toward one of the children to wipe off his mouth, another tattoo on her
back. I wondered if she had got all the things she wanted in life or if there
was still wildness there.
A middle-aged
man sat a few chairs up from her, his remaining hair swept back. He moved his
hand over his forehead and back through his hair. He looked interesting except
for the Wal-Mart shirt with the pictures of collectible cars on it. His burger
sat in front of him half eaten. He was worried about something. Maybe like I,
he wondered where he left the rest of life.
David Young
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