My Friend Drove By

On Whiskey Hill Rd east of Hubbard, Oregon

I was walking east on the north side of the road in the brisk pre-evening pre-dusk late afternoon.

“Hi, Mark!”

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.

Comment? Sure!

Above all, love God!
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