Caleb's Mom

Ten year old Caleb looked up from his dirt pile in the front yard just in time to see Old Man Joe run screaming by. Caleb's mouth dropped open. Then he yelled "Mom!!!!!!!!!"

Joe was wearing ragged jeans, filthy sneakers and a torn t-shirt, and he was running as fast as he possibly could. Wide-eyed.

As fast as he possibly could was not fast at all; Joe was 69 years old and worn down to a nub. Caleb thought of him as ancient but, really, 69 is not officially archaic in this day and age. Still, it was definitely too old to be running at maximum effort.

Just five minutes ago Joe was sitting at the kitchen table paying bills. His wife had died 6 months ago. Suddenly he was getting a close-up look at their "finances" and he was feeling none too proud. Or comfortable.

Neither Joe nor his wife had life insurance. In addition, thanks to the generosity of this country's social security system, Joe had no access to her benefits. His hands were shaking.

He was introduced to reality when she died, and the situation had gotten progressively worse over time. Joe still had a mortgage to pay, and he had no idea how he could keep doing that and still afford food.

His kids were well off, they could afford to help him out of this desperation. That is if they were still talking to him. Which they weren't. And he wasn't going to beg.

He was lost, alone, and bewildered. Cornered at a time in life where he had zero options.

Joe stood up from the kitchen table and walked out the side door. And started running. And screaming. There was no conscious decision to do so - his feet just started moving, and a scream of despair parted his lips involuntarily; it was impossible to silence the pain and the fear. It wasn't just inside of him, it was him.

The screaming did not last long, Caleb was the only one to hear it. Joe was quickly out of breath and his heart was just hammering his chest.

But he kept running.

A Jack Lemmon movie popped into his head. The one where Lemmon is at his wits end and jumps onto an exercise bike and tries to pedal himself into a fatal heart attack.

Joe thought he could do that. He thought he could run himself to death. Why the hell not? He had no solutions, zero hope, no options, and not one person in the world gave a damn about him.

His breathing became ragged and there was pain in his ribs, but he kept moving. Joe looked like an escapee from an insane asylum. Long hair whipping around, wild eyes bugging out of his skull, loose clothes flapping in the breeze, arms flailing wildly around his body, slowing down, slowing down, staggering but determined.

Suddenly pain exploded in his chest. Pain so sharp, so sudden, that there was no mistaking its intent. Joe took two more steps before falling face down on the side of the road, raising up a cloud of dirt. He bounced once and lay still.

A few minutes later, Caleb's mother, with Caleb in the car, pulled up behind Joe's body. "Stay here," she told Caleb. She walked around the front of the car, gasped, and called 911.

As she waited she stared intently at such a sad scene, and cried. Joe had been a sad man, always, even when his wife was alive. It seemed like true sadness started when his kids moved out. The way he walked, the things he said, and, especially, the blank, hopeless look in his eyes. As if he were staring out at the distance when he talked to you, instead of looking into your eyes.

There was defeat in the posture of his body as it lay by the side of the road.

Caleb's mom wished she had gotten to know Joe better.