Yesterday's Paper

Yesterday’s paper came just before 7:15 AM. I was already awake, even out on the porch when they dropped it off. I checked the clock, because it seemed like they came early. And they definitely did, for where I live, anyways.

It was freezing and I had on a jacket I got for my 50th birthday.  I said “Hi” to the paperboy, but he didn’t look me in the eye. I figured he didn’t hear me or maybe that he didn't have the energy for a response. It was a young man this time, contrasting who it usually was, Ralph, an older gentleman.

I believe he’s around 80. He was in good health for his age and walked miles a day, delivering the paper. He told me how he didn’t trust his balance on a bike anymore. Honestly, he told me a lot of things. When I moved here, he became my first friend. I offered him coffee every morning. Even when I stopped drinking, I still made a pot just so he could have some.

Ten years he’s been on this route. Five before I came and five after. That’s why the paper came much earlier than I expected, I suppose. Ralph wasn’t biking and he moved slower than most on foot.

Moved. Guess it’s getting easier.

My interest in the paper went through cycles. When I first moved here, the local events didn’t truly interest me but I still kept up to seem neighborly. Then, I started to care. The town became home. And the new talent they had, Mark, was a damned good writer. He knew what he was talking about. And I wanted to hear. 

Mark left 6 months ago. Got a job in a bigger city. The one where I lived for a while. Mark loves it there. I haven’t kept up with him, but I know. He’s young enough, smart enough too. He must be doing well for himself.

Mark is not who this is about though. I know. It’s about Ralph. Ralph was the one who got me this jacket. The man didn’t have the greatest sense of style, but it suits me well. Comfortable too.

And Ralph would’ve noticed how I’m acting and asked me what’s wrong. He would’ve meant it sincerely, too.

I miss my friend.

He would’ve liked that I was wearing the jacket he got for me. He would’ve liked that I read the paper anyways, went through the motions of the day regardless of if he’s there or not for it. He was my favorite person in this town.

Gone.

And today’s paper would probably tell me why. How it all went down. The copy got dropped off closer to 7:30 today and I cannot bring myself to walk out of my home to grab it. Very city of me, Ralph would probably say. He always had a lot to say about me being from one.

At least he had footing to stand on. He had to go there to get his architecture degree. He always told me about how those years were terrible. How he looked forward to coming home, seeing his friends, going on the trails. He liked the simple parts of living. He must’ve found them beautiful.

I dropped off flowers for his daughter. His funeral is Monday. I think I might speak. I don’t know if I can. I hope to. But all I know is I love the man. Not loved. That feeling won’t die.