I was walking east on the north side of the road in the brisk pre-evening pre-dusk late afternoon.
He was driving east on the south side of the same road.
He had slowed down to shout out his open window.
I turned to look. He waved. I waved.
Happily. With a big grin.
I hadn’t seen him in way-too-long. Weeks.
My good friend in his old four-door blue-green pick-up.
Friends are good. They notice you. They shout at you, cheerily. They slow down for you. I must remember to be a good friend.
I am still blessed.
I hope one of his children sees this and tells him.