The room was filled with the souvenirs gathered throughout a life of adventure. The bullroarer collected in the Outback lay on the shelf next to the Tumi knife picked up in Cuzco. The Tibetan Thangka hung near the window opposite a Baule mask from the Ivory Coast. The Xianpgi set bartered for in the Pangiayan Market and bone china tea set acquired in Edinburgh graced the top of the Kotatsu table radiating warmth from the corner. Numerous bits and pieces amassed wandering the world vied with one another for attention in the small hospice room dominated by the hospital bed which had only recently dwarfed its fragile occupant.
A man well-traveled had just died here . . . alone. For all his exploits, he had never had the time to make the human connection. Never did he experience the greatest of all adventures. Never did he wait with baited breath for the birth of a child. Never did he work a job he hated to provide for a family he loved more than himself. Never did he return to the loving arms of a woman graying and past her prime. Never did he stand proud at the graduation of a son or the wedding of a daughter. Never did he cry silent in the night not knowing how he would be everything needed by those in his charge. Never did he hear the words “I love you” from one he had given up his dreams for.
The young orderly stood surveying the mess he was packing up for disposal. He searched for a picture, or a letter, or indication of any kind there was someone that would want to know a lost and lonely soul had left this world . . . anyone that would want something here to remember the sad, miserable man that had spent the last days of his life in this forlorn place. The youth closed and taped each box of the now worthless hoard of memories unshared, feeling a sorrow for the adventurer once envied.
The cell phone in his pocket rang. It was his wife. The baby was colicky. His son’s soccer team had lost. The electric bill was past due. She was frustrated and exhausted. She waited for him to respond, but he was only now understanding the treasures of his own adventures. All he could say as he choked back tears was “I love you.”
9 comments
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November 1, 2009 at 11:22 pm
oracleofthepearl
Love the take on adventure. It’s true, there are adventures undreamed of in everyday life. Life and love are adventures.
Very moving piece.
November 2, 2009 at 1:22 am
Tumblewords
Touching piece nicely written.
November 2, 2009 at 3:03 am
gautami tripathy
Wonderful writing..
deathly adventure
Also don’t forget to post any of your creative works at Monday Poetry Train Revisited!
November 2, 2009 at 5:14 am
Sara Fryd
A beautiful triumph of human emotions. Gorgeous.
November 2, 2009 at 2:24 pm
cherokeebydesign
Its sad that this happens all to often in real life.
Some people gain a world of wealth, but in the end, and only in the end, realize they have lost it all.
This piece reall makes me wonder about others that are like this poor, lost soul.
Raven
http://cherokeebydesign.wordpress.com/
November 2, 2009 at 3:46 pm
lionlambluv
What a sad story and sort of reminder that adventures exist everywhere and are different from person to preson.
November 4, 2009 at 3:16 pm
gautami tripathy
Welcome to the poetry train.
collectibles
November 4, 2009 at 10:46 pm
cordieb
Oh me or my Miss D. This is such a bittersweat story. It has me tearing up beyond control. It’s rather embarrasing, as I’m at work. A co-worker just asked me if I was ok, and I honestly could not get myself together. I must share this one. I do hope you don’t mind. It certainly is a reminder of what’s truely important in life.
You’re really talented. Thanks for evoking the spirit of love and compassion in this story.
Peace, Light and Love, C.
November 7, 2009 at 2:40 am
old egg
What an excellent piece of writing. OK, he was alone now but what adventures, relationships and experiences he may have had. Luckily the orderly realized the value of his own life and family. Well done indeed.