Two Girls

I was sitting on a bench, drinking a Starbucks blonde and having a cigarette. Behind me, somewhere, “That cigarette stinks!”

But she wasn’t talking to me. There were two of them. And I thought, you can move away from me faster than I can get up off this bench. No cruelty intended, but after walking up the hill and around the store, my calves were cramped and drained of blood, courtesy of Phillip Morris and my lack of self control.

Then I saw Travis. One of the girls yelled at him, “You ain’t smoking that, I saw you pick it up off the ground!”

I turned to the girl and said gently, “it’s okay, I’ll give him one “

The tallest one wasn’t convinced that I had a valid solution. I said, “Go easy on others, it’s a harder habit to quit than heroin. I’ve known people who did both, and they claimed tobacco withdrawal was worse.”

I realize that you may not believe me, but I told them the truth. The two high school ladies fell silent and had something new to think about.

“I’m dying. Lung disease.”

“Then why you still smoking?”

I said, “quitting won’t save me now. It’s too late.” They looked genuinely sad.

They thought I was nice and asked me to get them something they couldn’t buy. Not legally. I said, “I don’t think I should. The police occasionally watch me. They know I carry more blades than the Angry Chef owns, and knuckles to boot.”

The tall one asked why. The other one said, “He needs to protect himself.” I said no, that wasn’t it. “I’m dying. I can’t fight. But if I see someone in trouble, I’m defending them. I’m a protector. I won’t be the one recording video of someone getting beaten.”

They are good kids. They have kind souls and they have wisdom at an age where teens often like to play tough and silly. But I expect them to make a difference.

We don’t have to fight. In defending Travis, I had an opportunity to be gentle and kind, and say a few things to girls who now have something new to think about. They may forget my words, forget me, but all words of advice, when spoken kindly, are forever where we leave them. I thank the Lord for giving me the chance to pass on simple things I’ve learned.

I’ll forget them unless they speak to me again. I can’t even remember what I did this morning.

And that’s okay.

Our father gives us chances to help others, and, for them to help us. Because when I first heard the girls behind me, I expected the harsh talk to get worse. I was wrong. We fear what we shouldn’t, and we take lightly the things we should not. We’re a peculiar species.

I got to see my brother Travis today. And the sky was a beautiful deep blue with no clouds. And I had the honor of talking to young people and trying to give them something positive.

I told them to take good care, and began the walk home. I felt better than I have all week.

Praise God, it was a very good day.