Its all good

     He slowly gets out of bed, sitting on the edge for a few to let the blood circulate and the spider webs clear out. Its another day and he gives thanks for being a part of it. Rising, he does his morning business and looks in the mirror at the weathered old person he has become. Years of working in the Florida sun has left him looking much older than his sixty-five years. He rubs the stubble on his face and decides he won’t shave today.

     Mornings to him have always been special. The smell of coffee brewing and the silence just before the storm of worker bees head off to their jobs, school, doctors’ appointments, life. His was a simple life with his busy days spent painting houses enjoying the pace he chooses to go. No boss, no timecard, just the strokes of the brush and the feeling of pride when he finishes.

     As he loads his supplies and equipment into his trusty old truck that he bought twenty-five years ago, he takes a minute to look at the house he just finished. The owners were happy and even gave him a nice tip. He smiled and waved as he left for home. On his way, he made his daily stop at the bar he couldn't pass by. A nothing fancy watering hole with the same faces and music from one day to the next. He drank three beers than left without saying a word except for a thank-you to the barmaid that took over ownership after the old owner passed on.

     Dinner was in the freezer and took six minutes to heat up. He used those minutes to shower and collect the mail which he would read with dinner served on a tv table in front of his comfortable chair. He had a thing about seeing the world news every night and worked his painting schedule around it. The distance from the job had to be timed as was the three beers he had before going home. He got quite good at the time thing, and when the bell tolled six, he was in his chair, dinner in front of him and his favorite news anchor filling his mind with all that is news.

     He clicked the tv off after the news, read the mail and went outside where he took a seat on the front porch steps watching as the worker bees passed him by on their way home to wife's, husbands, homemade dinners and a slice of apple pie. The sun was all but set when he went back inside and opened a book he had been reading for a while now. It captured his imagination and added to his life in its own way. Tired now, he sat on the edge of the bed and gave thanks for giving him this day, a good day, a day he could be proud of. 

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