The World

When you were little what did you want to be when you grew up?” “Different things, the usual little boy dreams.” “Like what?” “An archeologist, paleontologist, caped crusader, fireman, pirate.” “A pirate?” “Sure, why not? Plunderin' booty and pillagin' ships sounds like a fun time to me.” “Scurvy.” “That's why you set aside time to pillage a ship that is carrying various tropical fruits and what not.” “Eye patches.” “If you see a man walking down the street with an eye patch on, you automatically have a unfounded sense of respect for his possible aptitude towards danger.” “True.” “What did you want to be?” “Cap'n Crunch.” “I'm not even going to ask.” “Good.”

He grabbed a few 3 ½ inch screws from his tool belt and put the last board down. “We're done. Let's get this truck loaded and get home. It's a long drive and I don't want to miss supper again.” He reached inside the open window of the truck, grabbed the paperwork, and headed inside to get a signature. “Y'all did a good job on that ramp. It looks real sturdy.” “Thank you, mam, we try.” “Be safe going home.” “We will.” He walked back outside grabbed a toolbox and loaded it inside the cab of the truck along with his cooler, tool belt, and the paperwork. He eased his way into the passenger side and closed the door behind him as his partner turned the truck on and started backing out of the driveway. He looked at the arrival time on the GPS, an hour and 48 minutes. He might just make it.

Half way through his cigarette the silence was broken, “So now you're learning the trade of carpenter. There isn't a whole lot of booty to be plundered in carpentry.” “Sure there is. When was the last time you walked in the door still covered in sawdust, some dried blood on a knuckle or two, and wearing your tool belt?” “I don't know that I have, why?” “Never mind.” “Seriously, why?” “Jesus was a carpenter.” “You're not Jesus.” “I wasn't saying I was, sir. I'm just making conversation.” “You're about to go off on a tangent aren't you?” “It's always a possibility.” He finished his smoke and sat quiet for a minute, thinking about younger days and gravel roads.

“You know when I was out of high school there were these old back roads my buddies and I used to drive around on, drink a beer or two, and just talk.” “What did you talk about?” “Saving the world.” “Caped crusader antics.” “To a point, sure. They were good friends, smart dudes, they possessed empathy and a convoluted sense of right and wrong. I was lucky. So damn lucky.” “They still you're friends?” “I suppose they are, the world kind of send folks on their own paths. Geography and time can be a bitch.” “If they showed up tomorrow how would it go?” “They same it went almost two decades ago.” “Then they are still you're friends. Now, tangent please.” “You like them don't you?” “It passes time.” “Such high praise!”

“When you're young, you have no roots, no responsibility to anyone. When you're full of righteous anger at the wickedness of the world and the injustices done to the poor and sad people that live on that world. Well, you either ignore it, laugh at it, or you want to change it. You want to “save” the world.” “The world is a big place.” “Nothing is bigger than you are when you're young and angry.” “You still want to save the world?” “Of course I do but my world has changed.” “How so?” “If you live as good a life as you can manage, stay alive, and don't lose sight of things your world gets smaller. If you're real, real, lucky you look over one day and sitting next to you is the most beautiful woman in the world. Strong and soft at the same time. Lovely. Her walk makes you weak. Maybe there are some little ones, still innocent and fresh.” “You passed caped crusader antics a while back.” “My world changed. I still shake my head at the wickedness and I still feel for the sad and poor of the world, but they're world exists outside of my world.” “That's a little selfish.” “You're damn right it is.”

He stopped talking, lit another cigarette, and sat quietly for a moment. He though about the selfishness of it all and wondered whether it was okay. “My world got smaller. The Earth was no longer this huge place to trample and wrestle with. My world exists of my few close friends who I might see once every couple of months, my family, and it exists inside the most beautiful woman in the world and her children. I have no desire to exist outside of that sphere. I have no need to see anything else. The grass on my side of the fence is the greenest.” “How does that feel? To you.” “Perfect.” “No desire to fight any more?” “I didn't say that. There are times my blood still boils and I clench my fists. I just think longer these days is all.”

They pulled into his coworkers driveway and they said their goodbyes for the day. He noticed as his cohort walked up the driveway towards his house and his most beautiful woman in the world, that he was still wearing his tool belt and had not brushed away the saw dust. The door opened and he saw a smile shine out from the shadows of the dusky night. He smiled himself and silently wished his friend good luck as he sat down behind the wheel and headed back to his world.