I Pass, I Wonder

A couple of miles from my home, just off the highway, an old shed juts out of the side of a hill near a double-wide trailer.

Such distant structures don’t usually catch my eye, but the last couple of weekends, my wife has done the driving when we venture out. I’ve enjoyed the break and especially the chance to see things I don’t usually notice because I’m focused on the road ahead. The other day I took notice of the shed, and the fact that what looked like an older man was sitting inside the shed in a chair, hunkered over a desk or table.

What could he be doing? Is he writing? Working with a tool? There was no screen door, just the regular door, opened and laid back against the boards of the shed’s exterior wall.

I like the man’s solitude, his focus. I like the way he doesn’t filter the air but allows it to boil right into the room with him, insects and anything else that might come his way. I like the curve of his back as he attends to his work. I like the trees on the ridge behind him, and the whispers of his life, his secret, his distant riddle.

I saw him again today because I was looking for him when I passed by. There he was, about his task, paying no mind to anything but what was in front of him on that desk or table. Perhaps he is at prayer. I do not know. I prayed for him, just a quick, lifted wisp.

Bless him in what he does, Father. Ease whatever burdens he carries.

A shed would be a pleasant place to write, or to read, or to pray. A finite cube of wood, with bits of metal and glass for hinges and windows. A shed would be a pleasant place to spend a handful of hours if a man were of a mind to sit in it and think his contained, compact thoughts.

I will look for the man in the shed again tomorrow.

~ S.K. Orr