Harry, my friend forever
The morning has not yet brought the dawn… I wait. I stand by a window… I wait. Dawn begins… I reach for the two cups, black coffee. I hold one in each hand. He will be there now, in front of his cell, in a wheelchair. Waiting…
I’ve known Harry for over 20 years, caged. Both of us non-violent 1st time offenders, but, that’s another story… This one is about my friend Harry, who is very sick and should be “compassionately” released due to his health, and age.
As I walk the distance to “Harry’s Place”, I notice the moon is still up to my right, even as the orange glow of the sun on my left, begins to give off it’s first warm, bright rays… I continue walking, I breath, I know Harry’s waiting.
Since the cancer has affected his lungs, he can’t laydown. So, he has to sleep in his wheelchair, sitting up. He will be awake by now though, he knows I will be there. Nearing… my ill friend does not take his eyes off me.
“hey homeboy, here’s coffee” his frail hand reaches out for it
“You don’t have to do this George”
“yes I do-how goes it last night?”
“…bad” he lowers his head, looking at the coffee in the cup
“want to talk about what I am doing to get you out of here?”
“No, let’s talk about the old days, like when…” my friend has to stop for a second, his lungs, short of breath.
he continues, “… when Ed, when that nut hit him right in the nose, remember?” he laughs
“yea, yea, I think it was 95″ I answer – we continue with some more funny stories for a little bit.
My friend becomes silent.
Suddenly he looks up at me and says… ” I’m in trouble here ain’t I homeboy-I ain’t gonna make it to be free-I never thought it would hap…happen to me…” he begins to weep.
I move closer and put my arm around him. We sit, I stare, looking out a window.
Here we are sitting, just two caged men and two cups of coffee. Funny how no other inmates have exited their cells yet-Funny, funny how some Saint of dispair and lonliness sent us a small blessing today.
I will continue these mornings, continue as long as my friend can. We will have our talks, laughs, and most likely a few tears. I am proud to know Harry, I am proud of his strength, knowing he’s dying–for we are all in passing–how we live it is what counts.