Who are you?
I am nobody.
Are you nobody too?
Dominic can’t hear too well.
He is elderly.
Hey, like I ain’t?
He has been golfing today in Eastern Pa, enjoying the 70 degree weather.
He walks in, alone, has a beer and no one talks to him.
The chicken butt strikes up a conversation with Dom.
I call him Dom.
I ask him if he is Italian?
He gives me a look that says: “Hey you idiot, of course I am.”
He tells me his life story.
What a lovely person.
Can I buy you a beer, Dom?
No, Chicken Buttafucco. I am on my way home.
I said: “Hope to see you again, Dom.”
We high 5.
I doubt that I will run into Dom again.
It really doesn’t matter.
For tonight, I had a wonderful time, listening to Dom reflect on his family, his love of golf and his political views.
As he walked out the door, I smiled to myself.
What a perfectly lovely man, retired, devoting the rest of his years to taking care of his family, yet finding time for golf and an occasional beer.
I thought I detected a spring in his step as he left the establishment.
So happy to have had the opportunity to talk to you.
I hope someday we will meet again.
So many people in this world.
Strangers, until we meet.
And then, BFFs forever.