The Storm

“When you headin' back this way, Zach?’ Henry asked. “Not for a while, Henry. I have a lot of thinking to do and figure out what I’m going t o tell my boss, and my future in Brooklyn. It'll work out alright. I think I have an angle." “That’s good, Son. You’ll figure it out. Just remember what Gunny told you. I stand with him about his outlook on life. You’d do well to take heed to it, Zach.” “Y es Sir, I know. I have been thinking about it a lot!” “Good for you,” Henry replied. After breakfast I gathered my things and packed the rental car. It was good to be headed home, and the drive to New Orleans would give me time to think. Henry and I said our goodbyes and I headed to the car. “I enjoyed having you here, Son.” "I enjoyed my visit with you, too, Henry," I said. Henry was touched with an unusual emotionalism that I hadn’t seen in him. More softer now. Maybe his talking about his life helped in some small way. Who knows. We said our goodbyes and I walked across the rotting old porch and down the path past the catfish heads hanging on the fence. “Goodbye, Henry. You take care,” I hollered back to Henry standing on the porch. “You as well, Son!” We both smiled and waved. And I headed through Ruby with a new appreciation for the old town, and on to my next stop, New Orleans. As I passed through Ruby I had a twinge of sadness, that I might not ever get down this way again and see either Henry or Gunny. I had enjoyed their legacy immensely. They both were bigger than life in my book, and I could only hope to be as big of a man as either one of them. They both taught me valuable lessons about the value of life.

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