Harry has eaten

Harry has eaten.  It's before 7 o'clock.  It's a very cool morning.  My tomatoes are still green but turning slowly some other color.  I am growing impatient about it.   Judy is going with Shannon for her official wheelchair fitting this morning. More meetings will be required.  I am going to breakfast with my cronies at The Avenue.  Harry has noticed me from the couch.  He is getting old and fearful in his age like someone suffering from dementia.     Buzzing summer flies send him into a panic and into his crate.  The slightest animal sound enrage him into a barking tirade. 

We went to a birthday party for Christopher, one of Shannon's housemates.  He is turning 38.  The event was held at his mother's house which is quite near us about 10 minutes away.  He is a nice young man, but a little bossy.  Dear Anthony is like his older brother.  They fight and argue like brothers do.  It's a lovely home, in a sprawling ranch style with a kidney shaped pool in the back.  Food was good and the company was good.  Anthony brought Shannon and David who ate up a storm.

It's the next day and a cool morning.  Being old with lots of time on my hands, I have tine to contemplate the world around me.  Much of that time I spend thinking about where  do I belong.  Where do I fit?  Through many generations society has separated us into groups, some based on age, ethnicity, on racial backgrounds, on sexual preferences.  These groupings don't often cross paths except in the workplace.  We rarely reveal our true selves.  There are conversations that are not held because everyone is too uncomfortable.  Revealing the truth has historic pains that are kept hidden.  Can we be friends without being truthful?  I do ponder that question.