Small Things

Small Things

Just last Wednesday I had a blowout with my wife

When all the shouting and throwing things was done

I figured I'd better get out of the house

Take a walk, I told myself

Let things cool down to a low boil

I walked slowly down the street

To the park three blocks up and three blocks over

There I bought some stale bread at the hot dog stand

Found a bench and sat down by an old man wrinkled and gray

We were quiet for a long while

Throwing bit's and bites of wheat bread

To the pigeon's that wandered by now and then

The old guy had the kind hint of a permanent smile

He seemed quite happy and very content

Got me wondering what advice he might give me

There from the twilight of his life

I said, “Old man, I'll tell you

Life at thirty-two looks pretty damn bad

What makes you so happy

With you in your eighties

And death's door waiting to open just down the street?”

He smiled a little more and said in a voice soft and quiet

“You know, when I was young I wanted a whole lot of things

Later, I learned to want a few things a whole lot

But in the fullness of time I've found

That  much of what has given me

The greatest happiness in life

Can all be put into just one word.”

“And what word is that?” I asked

His eyes sparkled

As he gave a good-hearted bit of bread to a bird

“Linore,” he said

“She is my lady

Linore waits for me at home

In a little while, I'll get up from this bench

And wander on back

I'll probably find her in the dining room

With a calico cat on her lap

When I walk in, she'll look up kindly and say

“Hi baby, how did it go for you today?””

Listen son, Linore is just a tiny little thing

Like me, she has gone very gray

But when I look at her I see

A half a million memories all rolled up inside

Half a million things to think about

Lingering quietly there in her turquoise eyes

They are small things

Stuff you'd hardly mention day-to-day

Things that most people never even notice

Or take for granted and cast aside

But I think about them all day long, every day

In Linore I see ten-thousand kisses

Scattered across fifty-five years

Ten-thousand times her soft hair

Has brushed up against my arm

Ten-thousand times her head has rested on my chest

Ten-thousand conversations

Bright or wise, idle or sad

Ten-thousand jokes and wise cracks

Adding a little happy spice and pepper

To the passing days

Ten-thousand smiles

Ten-thousand “I love you's”

Always from the soul, always good to hear

And at the end of ten-thousand tough days

Ten-thousand cuddles in bed after the lights went out

Ten-thousand times we have taken each others hand

Ten-thousand times I've felt her gentle embrace

Ten-thousand times her face has lifted up my day

Ten-thousand times I've looked in her eyes

And seen the bright spark that dances inside

Small things

Things you'd hardly notice

But if you weave them all together

Across the long, long years

They tell a grand tale

That is epic and eloquent and entirely uncommon

A tale written by two small souls

With two small pens

A story written by Linore and I

That is worth telling over and over again

Now son, you get up and go on home

And when you do, keep to the small things

Keep them handy

Keep them close by

Keep on remembering them

They are what will get you through the long years ahead

They can make your life heroic

A romance that you live every day

If you let them, they can be ten-thousand things

That together

Are so much more than just a bunch of parts

Dewey Dirks