the happy man

I was planting a tree with my sister outside of yumyum noodle bar a few weeks ago when a young man walked by, giggling and gleeful, talking and gesticulating to the voices in his head. “He’s always that happy” Nina said, “but sometimes he walks out into the street in front of cars. That scares me.”
              I saw him later, two miles down the road. He was bopping along, red dreadlocks bouncing about, still carrying the bag he had earlier, and still engaged in the vibrant interactive monologue with his invisible, perhaps even sentient friend, or with God.
              “He’s always that happy.” When my mind goes, if it goes before my body, when it goes, that’s where I want it to go.


  1. I'm with you on this one--except I never caught it in motion like that and then wished for a made-to-order type. Just stay away from moving cars. That scares me.

  2. Grow your hair, put them in dreads.

  3. I just might, Cheryl. It would help me channel Anne Lamott, too.