When the pandemic hit the everyday lives of people were uprooted like
the Weeping Fig trees torn asunder by the Bangladesh cyclone in 1991.
As the disease spread, creative groups of friends decided that isolation
was not the best solution.
Conversing on the phone just wasn’t cutting it.
Soon, happy hours with adult beverages and bachelorette like trash tv was used as
a healing ointment on a bothersome rash.
Anyone who knows much about men and women surely realized that guys were
more akin to lone wolves never gathering for Doritos and Clint Eastwood movies
or breakfast with buddies.
The lone wolf phenomena hit me this morning as I devoured chocolate pancakes alone
while other tables of retired men conversed nearby.
This aloneness is not so troubling…as I have accompanied friends chasing trout
8 times in about 500 adventures to the river.
It’s all good as rainbows and brown trout
have become treasured companions.
Back to breakfast outings.
A good friend makes a point of having weekly omelettes with those
retired like himself.
i joined him once for breakfast tacos and we had a great time.
Some wolves like me just never get around to organizing these get togethers.
Maybe it’s something more than that I thought when starting the car to head home today.
Perhaps the hurdle is that, while turning the key, I noticed that my zipper was down again.
I concede that this is a valid reason breakfast invites are few and far between
Oh well…at least my waders conceal the fact that the brain is slipping a bit.
What You’re Saying