A MAN WHO HAS IT ALL

My bare foot breaks through the thin ice and sinks into soft moss. Any exercise is too much for my aged lungs. This isn't just any exercise, my life is at stake. Reaching my goal of the tree line, I dive for cover.

Movement out the corner of my eye pushes me deeper into the brush.

A guard, wearing a pastel uniform, stands in the door I just vacated. He scans once from left to right, stopping to gaze at the sunrise. His eyes lazily sweep the path one more time. I hold my breath to stop the tell tail puffs of fog. "Come back now. Come back in. It's nice and warm in here. Come on now. Come on." The ignorant guard calls me like a puppy lost in tall grass. I'm not lost, nor am I a little puppy. Despite the strain on my body, the short sprint to the tree line was worth my while. I'm out of his sight. Apparently satisfied, the guard turns to someone inside and says, "It's just a bad connection. This alarm has been going off every couple of hours! I'm really getting tired of hearing it!" After one last disgusted look, the guard closes the door with a resounding clang. The fake "short" I established over the last several days yields the desired result. The path was only given a cursory inspection. I can't remember being so excited. The hardest part is over, or so I think.

Behind the short trees facing the path is a small swamp covered in straggly brush. In captivity, I saw no indication of this major obstacle. Everything out here is the gray of deep fall. The leaves are long gone, and frost has killed everything else. The trees twist together like the yarn in that crazy scarf Trudy knit me last month, a ghastly thing.

From that point on Trudy stalked me, until she died that is. After her death, I discovered how numb I am, I barely noticed a person I saw every day die. Her death was my first indication of danger. Apathy is sucking at my soul. I'm determined to pay attention to every precious second of my life.

In my old life, an average of two hundred people are held in hospital style rooms. Beds fill and empty everyday. Most of the beds are emptied into cold storage. Even people who are only there for short term care, are quickly depressed to tears.

I'll never see the bed next to mine empty again!

I shake my head to clear it of this distracting nightmare, this is now, not then. The trees making up the thicket are not my worst problem. Large clumps of grass jut out of brackish water. The clumps, stand tall as my knee, and are randomly spaced. The grass is strong enough to support me, but it twist every time I shift my weight. The icy water can cause my, believe it or not, untimely death. My day isn't over yet. I have things to do! The brush lends some stability in my twisting, deadly, game of hop scotch. Jumping from clump to clump, I splash into the water often. My thin robe has gray lines marking how far I dip into the scum. The water is steadily draining my strength. Like the nursing home, the swamp has no malice, it just exists. There's nothing solid to push against. Apathy is my enemy, and I will not yield! Finally, the sounds of the road grow louder. The sound reaches past the threaded beating of my heart and is sweet to my ear.

At the edge of the swamp, a deep ditch parallels the country road. As a wind break, the hollow provides a convenient place to catch my breath. Icy air turns to fire in my lungs. After several minutes of rest, my breath still comes in fits and starts. I have to make a run for it or die here. The next time the road seems to be clear I get up to cross. As I lift my head above the ditch, a semi-truck roars by. The wind from the truck causes me to huddle deep into the ditch, clutching my flimsy robe tight to my body. Before I can face the road again, another car, a cop turns the corner. He slowly examines the sides of the road. If I had crossed even a little bit sooner, I would be nice and warm in the back of a police car, and only five short minutes away from my comfortable cell. While these things are going through my mind, the road clears.

I cross, trying to look both ways at once. Mud has frozen on my robe, causing it to slap against my bare legs. Crossing the large open lawn by the house at anything close to a run is hopeless. Instead, I decide to play it cool. I act as if I haven't a care in the world. Fortunately, no one to can see my display. My audience would undoubtedly see through my convulsive shivering, if not my thin gown.

The easiest point to break into almost any house is the back door. It can't be seen from the road. I missed my meds this morning and my knees are very weak . To remain standing, I lean on the door knob. Slowly turning the knob, I listening intently for an alarm. The door opens as easy as you please. Because of my weight the knob slams against the wall. I freeze, my body half inside and half out in the cold. I quickly realize how silly my butt sticking out of the door must look, so I solve the problem.

Inside, an open stairway leads to an impressive living room. A plasma television dominates one wall, it's huge! I try to put my arms across it, and can't reach all the way. The kitchen directly off from the living room has solid hickory cabinets with blue streaked marble, it accents the surroundings beautifully. The kitchen just begs to feed me.

First, I need to take care of personal matters, right now! Off from the kitchen a bathroom door is slightly open. I see relief. When I come out, so does the smell, "That's fiber for you," I absentmindedly say.

Now, this is more like it! High ceilings and skylights cause the over-sized common area to seem even larger. A wide hall off from the living room looks promising. Surely, there is a place to warm up and get comfortable down there. I continue working my way down the hall. Children's bedrooms are obvious. Loud colors and posters plastered across the walls have gotten even louder since I was a young. What I'm looking for won't be found in their rooms. I laugh at myself, "I'm Goldilocks, looking into every room until one feels 'just right'".

At the end of the hallway is an over sized and extra plush master bedroom and it looks just right. Rummaging through the room, I notice the suits in the closets are about my size. I came for relaxation not business! I see a Speedo and laugh out loud, "definitely not my style!" As I walk into the bathroom a plush, royal blue robe hangs on the wall.

If the kitchen begs to feed me, the hot tub grabs my attention like a shout. It promises to caress the frost away. I leave my filthy frozen robe, which tells the story of my quest, in a pile by the tub. I enter the tub, in the buff of course. The hot water sizzles against my legs. I enjoy every painful minute. My bones seem to take a little longer than my skin to thaw. I don't begrudge my bones their extra time, it's worth it. The fire in my lungs caused by the cold, the steam soothes away. After a long soak, I reluctantly get out of the pool and put on my plundered robe. The deep blue of the robe is a sharp contrast to the white of my legs. I've gotten soft laying in bed every day.

I decide to take the kitchen up on its offer of a meal. The carpet doesn't really call for slippers, but use them anyway. Now, what to eat? The things I'm not allowed to eat in "the home" are the only things on my list. Seeing a bowl of crisp apples, I shake my head and mumble, "No rabbit food today." Steaks with potato chips and beer, Bud at that, sound great! Combining meat with secret ingredients, I quickly turn a pile of meat into something to die for. When I broke into the house, I noticed a stainless steel grill on a well used deck. I make my way out to the grill with a plate of steaks I can hardly lift in one hand, and a beer in the other. The steaks grilling on the back porch casts smells that literally make me drool. I quickly wipe away the offending liquid.

The doorbell rings jangling my nerves. My mood is thoroughly ruined. I look around trying to avoid notice. I'm not supposed to be here after all. The cop I saw from the ditch is looking around the side on the house. There is nothing to do but to play it cool, again.

He calls out, "Hey, there you are! I could smell steak all the way from the car!"

"Just a minute, I'll be right there!" I reply.

As soon as the door opens, he says, "Hi, I'm Officer Swanson." While talking he's trying to look around me, deeper into the house. Is looking around like this his habit, or is he suspicious?

It's a good thing a nurse isn't here or one of the brutish guards. They would have recognized me for sure.

I brazenly say, "Hi, I was just getting ready for the big game. These steaks and a couple of Buds are going to be a real treat!"

The cop warns, "Don't drink and drive now."

I laugh, "I don't even drive. Do you want some steak? I have enough."

The cop laughs, "No, I'm still on duty. Have you seen anyone walking through here in just a thin striped robe? He would be about your age and build. It's very dangerous for someone his age to be out in this cold. He has a bad heart." Officer Swanson proceeds to describe me in detail.

I reassure him, "No one here but me. If I see anyone I'll call."

"The station's number is 555-1212, Just ask for Swanson."

I nod. "I'll do that."

He says, "If you see him, call right away. Exposure to these temperatures, could kill someone his age." As he's leaving, he gives the house one more look.

Slowly he backs out onto the street. From the door, I anxiously watch the blue cruiser leave. I calmly close the door and laugh so hard I spill my beer! I have comitted alchohol abuse! Now this is excitement!

Back to more important things. My ball game is on! This game is the reason for the haste. I left while the "care providers" were still busy diapering, dressing, and drugging all of the patients. I didn't even wait to put my clothes on. They're still on the hanger and my shoes are in their cubby. All this hard work is definitely worth it now.

Where's the remote? After a frantic search I find it between the couch cushions. With a flourish I flip the large screen on. It's strange, even though I only want to watch one channel, I still need the comfort of a remote.

My beer and steak call me. One Bud is finished before I pick up the steaks. And my next is a lot lighter than it started out, when I put it down. The steaks are still sizzling, when I flop down on the couch. Steak should be eaten two handed, one cutting while the other is shoveling. The excitement in my mouth caused by the beer and meat is overwhelming!

I'm late! The ball is already in the air. The entire game is an edge of the seat affair, a real knuckle biter! While cheering, steak juice dribbles down the robe. A commercial gives me just enough time to grab a couple more bottles of beer. After opening one I set the others down on a table.

Even with all of the excitement, my head settles back on the couch. As sleep overtakes me a quick thought flits through my mind. If I had invested well, or got "that" job, this place would be mine, instead of a stolen moment. Maybe it's more fun this way. The glass bottle slipping from my hand is the last sensation before "lights out" for good.

No heart beat is that last part of my plan.

Crazy old men