I was already drawn to him a few houses back. He was picking at his guitar hanging out on his front porch. As I made my way to his front porch, he stood up and reached over the railing for the paper I was delivering.
He nodded a thanks. His face was soft and kind.
I felt jealous of him sitting on his front porch; enjoying the day at a pace all of his own.
That small glimpse of his life gave me something to wonder about for the next 200 houses on my route.
Was he writing his own songs?
Practicing for a performance at the local coffee house?
Preparing lesson plans for his guitar students?
Strangely, I looked forward to his house the next week. I hoped to catch another glimpse into who this mystery man was. Disappointed, I found his porch empty with only traces of activity - cigarette butts and soda cans on the table.
It has been five weeks now and I have not seen him again.
Was my first judgment of our minute encounter wrong? Had I romanticized him a greater life then he feels he is in the midst of?
Maybe I caught him playing hooky from his real life, picking at his long lost love?
Perhaps, he spends his days stuck inside chained to chores and/or the rules of others.
Could be on that day we "met" he thought to himself:
How lucky she is to be out and about without the confines of four walls.