THE PATH
by
John Crusey
The man stepped slowly with a
cane, his beard had long ago relinquished any color and he couldn't remember
when it had happened. An aging basset hound walked beside him on a leash. It had
become a daily ritual for the pair, hiking this narrow, tree-lined path between
the fields. An indistinct bright spot marked the sun in an overcast, November
sky. To their left, dark earth had already been turned for next spring's use. On
the right, foot-high corn stubble stood as far as they could see. Lizzie's nose
was to the ground and her breathing came in snorts as she tried to get a picture
of what had been. Her white-tipped tail stood erect and swayed like a whip
antenna on the rear bumper of a car. Silhouetted birds on naked branches
silently watched the pair pass.
"You know, Lizzie ... solitare's a funny game and when we're born the cards are
laid out in front of us." The dog wasn't paying much attention to his words. Her
nose probed a brush pile and the scent of something stirred intense interest,
but the man didn't seem to notice and continued speaking while he let the dog
investigate, "Sometimes there isn't a single play. I had a son and daughter who
were dealt hands like that, but those don't often happen." With a little pull
Lizzie knew he wanted to continue walking. "Nope," he went on, "usually there's
lots of activity early on and we can't seem to play the cards fast enough. Then
opportunities begin to slow down and we work harder and harder to get another
card turned. Can we get help?" the man asked, "Sure." he said, answering his own
question, "There's always sombody telling us to 'Put the black nine on the red
ten.' but in the end it's our game and we make the moves."
"Some folks get all obsessed and frantic over what they don't have showin'.
They'll struggle like anything to turn another card." and with a smile, he shook
his head in a puzzled sort of amusement. "Most often there's still a few cards
face-down at the end, and people say, 'If only I could'a ... or I should'a ...'
But that's the way it ends for most. It doesn't really mean anything, no matter
how many cards get turned over, 'cause there's no prize for winning. Even so,
some will cheat to see the next card. In the end, the deck's scooped up and
dealt to the next player. I guess we should just enjoy the game while it lasts."
Reaching the end of the path, the old man gently tugged on the leash and said,
"Come on girl, lets go home."
jcrusey@woh.rr.com
y@woh.rr.comwoh.rr.com
