LONELINESS

 As soon as he entered the bookstore he plopped down in a chair…and I could tell immediately…there was something different there.

I noticed this about him…once into the store he walked…

He wasn’t there to buy a book…he was there to talk.

He spoke with anyone who walked by as if they were his congregation…

not just a simple hello…how are you…but an entire conversation.

I noticed anyone (and that was everyone) who stopped to talk with him a while…

young or old it didn’t matter…they left wearing a smile.

When there were no more customers in the store to talk to…at least none that he could see…my smile met his…and the next think I knew…the conversation turned to me.

It wasn’t really a conversation…which at first I found a little shocking…

as I did all the listening…and he did all the talking.

One thought would lead to another…about his family, his friends…his wife…

and in a little less than an hour…I knew the story of his life.

I know his wife made the bag he was carrying that now sat upon his knees…

I know the photos on that bag represented some of their favorite memories. 

I know his name is Herman…he was born in Ecuador…

I  know he grew up on the north side of Chicago…along Lake Michigan’s shore

I know what college he attended…where he met his wife, I know some of their hopes and fears…I know they lived in the house pictured on his bag for over 20 years.

I know how Covid left a hole in his heart…an emptiness in his life…

when first it took his mother…then two months later…took his wife.

I know that he was lonely…and that’s why that night he chose to stay…

I know how loneliness reminds us of those who once brightened up our days.

I know I enjoyed listening to his stories…his family history…nonetheless

I also know  I’ll never know the depth of his loneliness.

But I hope by sharing his memories with me and all the customers that night in our store…

at least for a little while…he wasn’t as lonely anymore.