But I'm seeing a lot of sad stuff lately. The hospital was the big sad stuff: people dying, people crying, that sort of thing. Kind of to be expected.
But also sad was McDonalds in the morning, where old people congregate these days now that the corner diner is gone. Eavesdropping on their conversations, there seems to be a frantic desire to do something useful, anything. I heard a woman go on for several minutes about how her grandson wanted her to bring him a Subway sandwich for his lunch at school. I swear, it was the high point of her day: what he likes, what he likes on it, etc.
Then there were the men, talking about maybe going fishing, maybe doing some yard work, maybe planting something. The sense was that none of it was very pressing. Just something to do so that tomorrow when they meet for coffee, there'll be something to say.
I love being a writer even more now, because I'll never be a bored-stiff McDonalds denizen.