The Man Who Dared to Dream

2013 Don F. Zullo. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 5/1/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4817-4449-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-4448-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-4447-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013907409

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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The Old Man’s Dreams

Prologue

The Voice

The Boy at the Brook

The Very First Encounter

Birds in the Park

Boy Disrespectful/Mother Angry

The Fair

Ugly Birds in the Park

Childhood Halloween Trick-or-Treat

Floating on Night Breeze

Admonished by His Parents

Questioned by His Children

Asking Wife for Divorce

Having to Tell His Children

Walking in the Hometown, Homeless

Bird Dream in the Hospital

Bird Entices Him into the Park

In the Park, Playing with the Dog and the Bird

Plane Crash

In Court, Judged Guilty by His Children

Child Makes the Birds Attack the Old Man

Locked Up in the Insane Asylum

The Old Man, Cutie and the Bird

Old Man, Cutie, George, Parrot/Attacked by Pack

Cutie and the Old Man in the Mexican Restaurant

Bird and Old Man on Trial in Court

Marriage to Cutie

Wedding in the Garden

Back in Court, on Trial with Cutie

The Old Man, Cutie, and the Bird in the Park

Giving His Bird Sketches to His Children

The Old Man in Court, Yet Again

His Final Dream

This work is dedicated to all the children who were, and are now forced to grow up in a split family atmosphere. Also it is dedicated to all those fathers that live with the guilt, remorse, and regret of making the decision to separate and live apart from the family unit, and the mothers who have bravely made sacrifices and suffered through the circumstances and trauma as a single parent. Hopefully it will be the decisions of those children, as adults, that will make this much needed change to our society. Once again the very first beginning words that are the cement that binds the foundation of a new family unit will have everlasting meaning:

I take thee, to Love, Honor and Cherish, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.

This is a story of tragedy, love, heartbreak, hope, humor, forgiveness, and the pure power of human compassion. An old man has been living on his own for many years. Although not considered a recluse or hermit, he does spend much time alone. He is guilt-ridden and has many regrets which he thinks about in his isolation. Mainly, it’s the guilt of leaving his children on that day, those many years past. His guilt haunts him in the form of dreams and nightmares. The old man is a father whose heart aches with the love for his children, yet he finds it difficult to locate the level ground on which to have a relationship, as well as a level piece of ground to deal with the choices that he has made in his life. A bird of faith, not believed to exist, befriends him and stands by him, even to protect him from a near-death tragedy, and has the ability to locate him, no matter where he is. Although once a solid blackbird, it slowly changes to white as the man sheds his guilt. He develops a passion to make sketches of the bird, and this becomes a source that creates the problem. Due to certain circumstances, he ends up in a hospital mental ward. A continuous barrage of technicalities and other circumstances make it difficult for him to attain his freedom. He captures the love of a middle-aged, not-so pretty, recovering drug addict who along with her illiteracy had a speech impediment. A dedicated doctor finds he is not too old to learn a lesson about life from his patient. And two compassionate ward nurses befriend him and help him make life-changing decisions. His impact on them is no less life-changing. Hopefully, the man who dared to dream will capture your heart, as well.

424760.jpg Prologue

THE OLD MAN SAT ALONE in the stillness of his one-bedroom apartment. The old platform recliner rocker would creak every now and then as he gently rocked to and fro. The room was quiet, except for the ticking of the Grand father clock that was located in the corner near the small square dining table.

The main room was a combination, living room, dining room, and kitchen. The only separation was the bar-topped half wall that divided the living room from the kitchen counter and the sink. The only other furniture besides the dining table and rocker was a brown-and-tan tweed couch. At the ends of the couch were two end tables, each adorned with a small lamp. A coffee table sat in front of the couch. The floor in the dining area and the kitchen was white tile, while the rest of the area had a dull blue short-napped carpeting. Three small throw rugs made of an orange, brown, yellow and green plaid material surrounded three sides of the coffee table. The room had two large windows. The only window coverings were the large mini-blinds. Family pictures adorned the walls and window ledge. Several pictures also were displayed on the end tables.

A large flat-screen television sat at the opposite end of the room from where he spent his time, seated in his rocker.

Usually, the only sound in the apartment was the tick tock of the large Grandfather clock and the sound of the refrigerator or the heater air conditioner. Other than that, it was the tick-tock-tick-tock of the clock, as it’s large gold pendulum clicked off each second. The man’s lifestyle was very simple and basic.

The old man was balding on top. His long white hair was thinning and unruly. His facial hair was scruffy-looking, as he did not shave regularly. You would find him, usually, dressed in sleep pants, T-shirt, an old tattered sweater, and half slippers, made of a brown velour material.

Although he was married twice and had three children by his first wife, the majority of his time was spent in isolation. He did not have friends that he would visit with or would visit him. You might say the old man was almost like a hermit or recluse.

One day, the old man was rocking in his chair. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, but when he opened the door, no one was there. As it was an apartment building, one was able to see up and down the hallway in both directions and it was empty. Confused, he closed the door slowly, while still looking up and down the hallway. When the old man finally closed the door and walked back to his chair, the strangest feeling came over him. It was as though there was someone else in the apartment with him. Although knowing there would be nowhere for someone to hide, he cautiously searched the apartment. He felt a little stupid but asked,

Hello? Is someone here? Of course, there was no answer. Yet he maintained an uneasy feeling that made a chill run through his body.

The old man returned to his rocker and sat down. Trembling slightly, still feeling a chill, he lay back in the recliner and covered himself with a small blanket. Not knowing or understanding what had just happened, he started to weep slightly and then burst into sobs and cried. This spontaneous happening confused the old man even more.

Dear God! he pleaded. Is this some kind of a sign from you? Is this my time?

After a short while crying, the old man settled down and became quiet. Listening to the rhythmic tick-tock of the clock, which was the only sound that he could hear, was like a hypnotic tranquilizer and he soon fell into a deep sleep. The feeling of peace and tranquility felt good, as his mind soon put aside the incident.

424760.jpg The Voice

TO HIM, IT SEEMED LIKE hours since he had fallen asleep. In reality, it had only been a matter of minutes. Suddenly, he heard a voice call to him,

Old man! Although he thought he had been awakened, his entire body felt heavy, and he could not move. Also, he was unable to open his eyes or speak. He heard his own voice ask,

Who is there? Who is calling me? Again, the voice called out,

Old man! The old man replied,

I hear you. Who are you? I cannot see you. Where are you? Still, the voice remained in the darkness, sounding as though in the distance.

What do you want of me? the old man asked. Who are you?

I am of you! the voice replied, as it came closer and became more clear.

Wha—? What do you mean, of m..me? the old man stuttered, as he blurted out his words.

The voice was ever so clear now.

I am your entire being. I am your mind, your soul, and your conscience.

Am I dead? the old man asked. Have I been condemned? The old man was, at this moment, awakened. Shaking and clenching his blanket tightly about himself, he asked,

What am I supposed to do? What is happening?

There was no answer. And this time, the old man, being fully aware at the sound of his own voice, exclaimed,

Oh my God!

At this, his whole body trembled and he was truly in a complete state of fright from the experience. Once again, he exclaimed out loud,

My God, what am I to do? Please help me!

Tears streamed down his cheeks, blurring his vision, and dripped from the stubble on his chin. Never in his entire life had he had such an unexplainable and frightful experience.

The old man sat for a very long time, clinging tightly to the blanket, which now partially covered his head, keeping it tucked under his chin. The tears dried on his shaggy, unshaven face. He just sat there, very much confused, still somewhat in shock and disbelief. Yet at the same time, he tried to make some sense of it all. Never before had he had such an experience. Although he had many regrets throughout the years and feelings of guilt, nothing ever came close to this.

This had taken place around mid-morning. It was now late evening, and although the blinds were drawn, he could tell that the sun was starting to set. It would soon be nightfall. He rocked very gently, moving ever so slightly, looking around the room at his pictures. He focused on each of his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren and even his nieces and nephews, whom he loved just as much.

The old man always was able to find peace and happiness in the faces of those that he held so very dearly in his heart. Every picture faced his chair. At a glance, the one he chose to look at would be in focus. Although he did not have much interaction or see them often, he felt they were always with him. Whenever he wished, the old man could pick out one of the pictures and immediately think of the memories associated with that particular one. He even would relive humorous moments that he’d had with the young ones at family gatherings.

At that moment, he smiled, and the twinkles in his eyes were due to tears of a different kind. These, the old man didn’t mind at all. He not only welcomed such tears, but embraced them, along with the memories they offered.

Now the hour was getting late and because of the event that had taken place, it had been a long and traumatic day for the old man and he was very tired indeed. Making sure the door was locked and all else safe and secure, he made his way, to his bed. He always left a small light on, so he wouldn’t trip on something if he got up in the middle of the night.

Although he was feeling somewhat more at ease, and was still trying to figure out the event that had taken place. Truly shaken by the experience, he was like a frightened animal, cowering, with nowhere to hide. Could it be possible? Am I truly everything that I have been told I am? Why? Why has it taken so many years for this to come to pass? Is this what I can expect for the rest of my life here on this Earth? Was that, really, me speaking to myself? His thoughts were circling in his head. How could this possibly be?

The thoughts were having an almost dizzying effect on the old man. Nothing in his memory at any time had been so vivid and relentless. It seemed at that moment he was on his own, for even prayer did not seem to have any power.

He tried to peer into the darkness of the corners of his mind, yet not truly wanting to see what might be lurking.

Am I hallucinating? Have I, finally, let my imagination get the best of me? The old man, lay there in semi-darkness pondering all these questions. He trembled, and he shook and he tossed and turned, as he tried to shake off these thoughts and these feelings that were so foreign to him.

He stood and walked around his bedroom, shaking his arms and head, trying to clear the thoughts and calm himself. He even went to his chair to sit, but that didn’t seem to help. That only induced more thinking.

After a period of time, he returned to his bed. His mind already tired and his eyelids heavy, he gave in and slipped in a deep sleep.

The old man had been right about one thing, for sure. All through life, he had a vivid imagination. He had been told on many different occasions, that he was just a dreamer, wasting his life and that of those who supposedly loved him.

424760.jpg The Boy at the Brook

THE OLD MAN FINALLY FELT the serenity, as though drifting on a cloud. The only thought that passed through his mind was that of himself as a young child. Even in this sub conscious state, he smiled.

Suddenly, in the distance was a dim light, as though just before dawn. He found himself walking in a meadow. It seemed as though he’d known this place as a child. The old man could feel his heart beating, slightly harder. He could feel the joy of the place. It felt good, and he was happy at the sight of it all. The blue sky, the green grass of the meadow, and the trees and flowers were as he had never known them to be. This place held a beauty that was beyond words. The old man thought to himself, Did I truly die? Is this what heaven is?

The old man kept walking through the meadow in awe of its beauty. He, soon came to a small brook. The water was crystal clear, and the trickling sound of the running water was almost like music.

There was a very young boy sitting on a rock overlooking a small pool of water, which was part of the brook.

However, the water here was calm and not flowing, as was the rest of the brook.

The young boy looked very familiar to the old man. His young face was almost that of a girl—smooth and flawless, with very slight rosy cheeks. His blonde curly locks barely touched his ears. He was dressed in a white short-sleeved shirt, with blue velvet knee-length short pants. He also was wearing white socks, folded at the ankle, and brown shoes that were cut out on the sides and the front, much like sandals are made and secured by a strap and gold buckle.

The old man felt and immediate affection for the child. He wanted to approach the young boy and sit next to him, but the brook was between them. He waved to the child, smiling, and called out,

Hello! What is your name? The boy did not answer.

The old man said,

I like your shoes. I had some just like them when I was about your age. The young boy still said nothing but pointed to the pool, as though gesturing for the old man to look. When the old man approached the pool and looked, his own reflection was that of the boy. At that, the old man fell to his knees in disbelief. The boy on the rock was gone, and the reflection was that of himself, as a young boy.

Oh, God almighty! exclaimed the old man, terrified and breathing heavily.

What is happening? What does this mean?

Sobbing loudly while covering his face with his hands, he bent over and pressed his face on the ground. His joy was shatter as he trembled violently, crying out of control. Again, he asked, What does this mean? Please tell me!

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a different voice proclaimed,

It means that you are a very bad boy, stupid! The voice was rough, loud and terrifying. The old man was afraid to uncover his face and look to see who was speaking. The voice spoke again and said,

Look at your reflection. Open your eyes and look at what you are!

When the old man finally found the nerve, he straightened somewhat and slowly uncovered his face.

Oh no! he exclaimed as he covered his face, once again. This can’t be!

The voice, now very demanding said,

"Uncover your face and look at yourself! See what you are!"

What the old man saw was the other side of himself, his conscience. The boy was dressed the same and about the same age, but his brow was crooked. He had beady eyes, and his nose was pointed, as was his chin. This was truly an ugly, devilish sight.

Why? asked the old man. Why am I being tormented now?

Do you remember these shoes? the ugly boy asked. Do you not remember how you embarrassed your mother? You, throwing a tantrum because you did not want the less expensive, more practical shoes. Everyone in the store was looking at you and your mother. Even the salesman was embarrassed.

The ugly boy continued his oration,

You knew she didn’t have the extra money and tried to tell you. But oh no, not selfish you. You still had to have these. And because of you, your mother could not afford to buy gloves for herself and went through the winter with her hands freezing because of you!

At that, the old man fell flat on the ground, pounding his fists and crying, "I’m sorry Mommy! Please forgive me. I’m sorry!"

The old man was pounding his fists as hard as he could on his pillow. This caused him to wake up, still pleading loudly for forgiveness,

Please forgive me! I’m sorry!

Now the old man finally knew what had taken place and why. Was this to be his destiny for the rest of his time on this earth? Was this going to happen from now on, every time he closed his eyes to sleep? The old man truly was frightened and felt that he had already aged far beyond his already aged years.

He paced back and forth and up and down. It seemed his footsteps has touched every part of his small apartment. Dreary, weary and exhausted, his eyes were red and burning and his hands were trembling. He could do nothing to change the course of time. Even as he knelt and prayed, thoughts of peace and forgiveness were easily overpowered and pushed aside, as other thoughts crowded in, pushing and shoving, as in a crowded bus during the rush hour. And yet, as the darkness started to give way to daybreak, he was still awake, with no relief in sight.

For the most part of the next day, the old man sat in his chair, staring at the blank television screen. He just sat there with his hands folded together and his fingers interlocked rocking to the rhythm of the clock, tick-tock, tick-tock—almost in a trance-like state. He had no particular thoughts, just a blank stare.

Every now and then, he would wince as though a pain touched his heart. The very thought of how he must have hurt his own mother was a heavy weight on his heart, especially at such a young age. The only other emotion he would show was a simple sigh, once in a while.

The old man was feeling very tired and for the first time in a long time, he was depressed and sad. He just could not stop thinking of how realistic the dream had been. Surely, he thought to himself, This was a one-of-a-kind time thing.

Yet he could not help but wonder, Can the mind and conscience have such an influence that a person can actually relive an event in such a realistic manner? Will there be more like this? So he sat, pondered, and tried to put some logic to everything that had happened. He even prayed and tried to examine his life.

For the next few days, the old man wandered around his small apartment, not wanting to eat or do anything. He lay on his bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, until he would become restless and move back into his chair. This process seemed endless. Even though he was tired, sleep would not come easily, and only in very short spurts when it did. At this point, he was almost afraid of what might transpire, if he did fall asleep. The hours dragged on, day after day until one morning the old man woke up after a full night of sleep. Apparently, the old man had become so tired that he had totally passed out from the fatigue and stress of the dream.

This being the case, the old man felt rested and was in surprisingly good spirits. He decided that it would be a good thing to get out of the apartment for a change in his routine. Also, it looked to be a very nice day outside and perfect conditions for a stroll. There was a small park nearby, and the old man decided that the walk there would be good for him. After being confined to the apartment for so long a period, he felt the fresh air would be good also. He took a bath and shaved his face. This made him feel almost like a new person. He got dressed, and after putting on his walking shoes, he gathered up his hat and cane and went out for a leisurely morning in the park.

424760.jpg The Very First Encounter

WHILE WALKING, HE STARTED TO feel good. The fresh air and the smell of the trees boosted his spirits even more so. The old man thought to himself, This was such a good idea!

Eventually, he noticed a bird perched on the limb of a nearby tree. He thought it, somewhat strange that it was a little large for a simple blackbird. The bird was looking at him. It was moving its head from side to side, as though studying the old man.

The old man continue on his walk. Suddenly, he noticed the same bird was perched in front of him again looking as though it was studying him. The reason the old man knew it was the same bird was because it had a small tuft of white on its breast feathers. This seemed very odd, since it was a blackbird.

The old man decided to change direction and was now walking a little quicker. The bird then took flight, as though in pursuit. The old man changed direction again. The bird perched on a tree limb for an instant, looking at him. Then the bird took flight and flew away.

That’s never happened before, the old man thought to himself. He actually felt unnerved by the bird and decided to call it a day and go home. He remembered hearing somewhere it was bad luck to have a blackbird stalk you. And with that thought he could not walk fast enough, in order to get home.

Just before he reached his building, dark clouds formed very quickly. The wind howled, thunder rumbled loudly, and the streaks of lightning lit up the sky everywhere. By the time he got into his apartment, his heart was pounding. He locked the door and fell back against it. His face was white with fear and the old man was shaking so hard, he barely made it to his chair and collapsed into it.

For the rest of the day, the storm raged. The rain pounded on the windows, as if trying to get in. The old man was glued to his chair again, clenching his blanket about him. Never had he been so frightened by a storm and even more so by a simple bird. What’s happening to me? he thought. Am I going absolutely insane?

Eventually, the storm passed and the winds ceased. It was early evening, and there was just a glimmer of sunshine from behind the clouds. The events of the day had taken a toll on the old man. He was truly exhausted, to the point that he did not have the strength to hold his head up. He could not even make it to his bed to lie down.

The old man lay back in his recliner and flipped out the foot rest. He had a small pillow to support his head. This, combined with the comfort of the blanket, helped make him feel that he could find some relaxation. Although still being fearful, he felt some security by being in the surroundings of his small apartment. However, the thoughts of the recent events were still fresh on his mind. He’d put the ideas in his own mind, but did not realize at this point that it was, in fact, his own doings. He lay back in his recliner with his arms folded, staring at the ceiling and letting his mind wander. He wondered if there was some type of meaning or connection that he was supposed to find involving these events. Thoughts such as these and more lined up and passed, one by one, through the old man’s now very tired mind.

Of course, letting himself become susceptible to his own mind’s choice of thoughts was not really a very good idea, as the line seemingly became longer and longer instead of shorter. If there was a good that eventually came out of it all, it was the fact that he had totally exhausted any energy needed to continue the process, much like an automobile running out of gas.

As he lay back in his rocker, his mind somewhat eased and the thoughts became smaller and less intense, as they seemed to fade back into the depths from wherever they came. For at least a short while, he floated between the two realms of reality and sub-consciousness in an almost serene state. He would close his eyes, and they would flutter open, only to shut again with the feeling of peace that he was experiencing.

424760.jpg Birds in the Park

THE APARTMENT DARKENED AS THE evening gave way to nightfall. With his eyes closed, the old man could sense himself moving between the consciousness and sub-consciousness, feeling a sense like that of a medication or even more like the feeling of euphoria. The old man didn’t realize it when he had finally slipped away into asleep.

Suddenly, as though a curtain were opening for a stage play he saw himself walking in the same small park. Almost like a replay in a film, the old man spotted the blackbird with the white tuft of feathers on its breast. The bird again watched him while perched on a tree limb.

Then, the old man noticed another and then another and another until there was a total of thirteen blackbirds. They were all perched and quietly watching him. Twelve were solid black, only the one had the white tuft of feathers.

For some unknown reason, this time the old man wasn’t unnerved. He felt that the bird meant him no harm. He also felt the same of the others, as they were sitting quietly. Whether this feeling was because he was dreaming and the first encounter was actual was hard to say.

All the birds sat in silence, and everything slowly faded away, as the old man stirred and started to return to consciousness. He felt no traumatic sensations whatsoever from the experience. As his eyes opened and started to focus, he realized he was in his apartment and had slept. Also, he now realized that the event, this time, had been a figment of his imagination…or was it?

These events caused the old man to think very seriously about his past, and life in general.

Although he was not a church-going person, he did believe in God and considered himself a Christian. Nevertheless, the old man started to feel that he had to do something. He was afraid to tell anyone especially his family, for fear they would just make fun of him. He did not know of any professional medical help, nor did he want to talk to a person of the cloth. The old man felt a clergyman would just say it was Satan trying to control him. And, the old man thought, that just might be the case. But for whatever reason, the old man now thought and felt differently about the whole situation.

As he relived the very first events of the voice and that of the ugly boy in the reflection at the brook, as painful as it was, the old man thought deeply and in earnest. He felt that in order to shed his guilt, this was the process he needed to use to find true peace. The more thought he put in this, the more he convinced himself that this was the right thing that he needed to do.

He was on the path of truly evaluating his life. At that moment, he almost felt lighthearted and happy at the idea of it all, at least for the time being. Why does that one bird have a white spot on its breast, the old man wondered, and why did twelve others appeared in my dream? Very strange indeed. And why do they seem to just sit and look at me? These questions and many more were going round and round in the old man’s head. Very good questions, but many more questions, as well as pieces to the puzzle, would be scattered around before the answers truly emerged for him.

The next few days were relatively uneventful, and the days turned into several weeks. Things around the apartment were almost normal. The old man’s daily activities were pretty much routine. He would take a nap in the midmorning or early afternoon. Then, it would be off to bed after taking his night medication, right after dark, which was normally about eight-thirty at night. He always seemed a little apprehensive at this time, as he well knew the night hours revealed the things that hurt him the most. The darkness intensified visions and his fears, and that was cause enough for his apprehension.

During his waking hours, he would try to sensibly think of things he had done wrong in his life. Of course in his mind there were many, but he would try and remember the more serious matters, such as the very first encounter with his conscience. Just thinking of that brought tears to his eyes. Maybe that was what he needed to jar his memory. He thought, That was a lot of years and a long time ago. But he felt the pain of how he’d hurt his mother, just as though it were yesterday.

The old man was constantly trying to make himself believe that what he was doing was the right thing. He just had to see it through and suffer whatever consequences there might be.

At night, before bed, he would pray, even though he had not done so in many years. He could not help but have a fear of what might be in store for him. All of this was in the forefront of his thought process, forcing himself, as bravely as possible, to proceed forward.

424760.jpg Boy Disrespectful/Mother Angry

ONE MORNING WHEN THE OLD man awakened, he was not feeling well. He had a stuffy nauseated feeling and was somewhat feverish. He struggled out of bed and made it to his chair. He just sat in his chair all day, dozing off once in a while for short periods. Even his blanket would not keep off the chill that was in the air.

The old man decided to drink some hot tea, and then took an extra sleeping pill. He thought this would be a good thing, in order to get some needed rest, and at the same time shake off this feeling of the chills and fever. He was soon in bed, getting settled and ready for a night of restful sleep.

The weather outside had turned colder, and he could hear the wind whistling around the building. Just the sounds of the coldness outside intensified the chill throughout his body. The old man tried to snuggle ever deeper into the comfort of his warm bed.

Lying there, looking at the evening shadows as they slowly crept across the ceiling, finally had a soothing effect. His eyelids became heavy and slowly closed as he drifted off to sleep.

After a period of time, the old man thought he heard voices coming from a distance, but he couldn’t discern what was being said. The voices became louder and more audible as they seemed to move closer.

Suddenly, two figures came into view. The surroundings became clear and more familiar. The voices clearly were that of a woman and a young child. The mother sounded angry, and the child was acting in a disrespectful manner. The old man was in the house where he grew up, arguing with his mother in the kitchen. Now he could see clearly, as he exclaimed,

You never let me do anything. You don’t love me.

If you were a good boy, stated the mother, things would be different! I gave you my last quarter to buy that milk. Now we have no money and no milk for cereal!

The old man remembered that time very clearly now. His mother had sent him to the small store down the street to buy a quart of milk. She had given him her last quarter. The old man’s heart jumped in his chest as he remembered exactly the circumstances.

It was snowing slightly and the ground was barely covered. He remembered buying the milk and on the way home deciding to test the glass bottle to see if it would break in the snow if he were to drop it. Quicker than the blink of an eye, as he dropped it the glass bottle shattered into a hundred pieces, spilling the milk everywhere.

Oh no! What have I done? he cried from the shock. He went back to the store crying and lied to the store owner. He told her that he’d slipped in her yard and had broken the bottle. She refused to give him another bottle of milk.

You should have used the sidewalk—it’s clear of snow, she said. It’s your own fault. Another bottle of milk costs twenty-five cents.

The store was only a short distance, and he remembered fretting all the way home. What shall I say? he thought. Not only did he lie to the lady at the store, but he lied to his very own mother.

Mommy, I slipped and fell, and it broke, he said sheepishly. She got so angry and he knew she didn’t believe him.

I’ll just run away. he said. At that, his mother said,

And just where do you think you would go at this time of night? She still speaking very angrily. He then replied,

I’ll go… somewhere! He was not sure himself, but he was trying to act brave. However, he knew that his mother could see right through him.

The old man remembered leaving the house and walking down the street about a block or so. It was snowing and very cold. The ploy lasted less than one hour. There was nowhere for him to go, and he knew it. Returning home, he went to the back of the house, crouched down on the porch and knocked loudly on the back door. When his mother opened the door, he jumped up and lunged at her.

Aarrgh! he said loudly. She screamed and almost fainted. At that instant, he realized what he’d done and became frightened himself. Her fright turned to anger, and this time his mother became furious.

You…you..! She could not find the words, she was so angry.

Do you have any idea of how you frightened me? she was shouting at him. She was crying uncontrollably as she grabbed a belt and started to whip him very hard.

Please, Mommy,— ouch! I’m sorry. I’m sorry—ouch! Please, I’m sorry. Don’t hit me anymore! Ow! Ouch! Ow! Please? He could clearly see himself crouched in the corner of the kitchen, with his arms covering his head, begging her to stop.

Again, the old man was awakened by the sound of his own voice pleading in earnest,

I’m sorry, Mommy. Please! Please forgive me! The old man was sweating profusely and his heart was pounding fast and hard. It felt as though it was going to break out of his chest. Then, sobbing and weeping, he dropped to the side of his bed on his knees.

Please, dear Lord, I am not worthy of your forgiveness. Please grant peace to my mother. The old man stayed kneeling at the side of his bed, weeping in his sorrow. He remained bent over, his arms outstretched and his hands clasped together, with his head tucked between them.

Even though his whole body was now stiff and racked with pain, he did not move. Finally, the light of day broke through the darkness of his room. The sunlight coming through the window glass offered a warmth and caused him to stir. The old man struggled to his feet and then sat on the side of the bed with his elbows on his thighs and his face buried in his hands. He remained just like that for a very long period of time. This had been his most realistic and intense experience yet. And he felt that there had to be more to come. The cost already on his health could not be known at this time. The old man’s wanting to do some thing and being able to do it were two completely different situations. He certainly knew by this experience what was involved because his heart felt pain revealed that much.

The old boy was doing himself more damage in this short period of time than he’d done in his entire lifetime. His immune system was being depleted and drained by his fatigue and feebleness. The old man was placing himself in jeopardy and was not even aware of the consequences. Just his realization and acceptance of the fact, there was more to come, opened a door that he soon would not have the ability to close. And the after effects could be devastating. Still he would act before thinking about the consequences of his actions.

The combination of things, as they were, was having a traumatic effect on the old man, causing him some hard times, both physically and mentally. Physically, he didn’t feel well, due to the flu-like symptoms. Mentally, he was drained from