Oh Well

"You're slipping out of sight," he says packing away his guitar while cocking his head back at me.

"No I'm not ... I'm just not doing stuff I used to do."

"Why not?" he asks, now standing to face me.

Dressed in a black denim shirt, blue jeans and Cowboy boots, while I'm wearing a blue tee shirt with the words "Three Sheets to the Wind" under a red and white sailing flag, shorts and flip-flops.

"Three Sheets to the Wind" is America's best Yacht Rock Band and I wear it regularly to Bar Church.

"I'm doing other things now," I answer.

"Doesn't seem like it," he snorts.

Shrugging my shoulders I stare pass him through the dark bar out the open door at people rushing down the main drag full of Surf Shops and bars towards the sounds of crashing waves.

"People miss it," he interrupts and I see he's staring directly at me, hands on hips as if he's preparing to draw imaginary pistols.

"Yeah, well," I shrug, "I still write and do things but ..." I trail off in lost thoughts.

"When?" he demands. "What things?"

He makes me tired ... the bone weary exhaustion when the supply of giving is dangerously low, coupled with the sad grasp most take without responding in kind.

I've just finished setting up for worship in a Bar, moving tables and chairs, lugging heavy speakers into place, getting the sound system to work, managing the needs of those who came to play, put a service together on the fly, sang from the heart, greeted every individual attending, told stories meant to uplift the listeners, tore down the stage and put everything back it was.

Worship's over and I've already punched out but he's wanting me to continue ... on behalf of others ... for him.

It's been this way most of my life ... making things happen for everyone else, which is righteous and Holy, but never considering the cost of how much they took from me.

Well," I sigh. "I write when I feel like it these days with little thought of owing it to anyone ... and I do the things I enjoy and try really hard to stay away from things I don't."

His face is red, full of consternation and perplexity as he continues to stare.

"Oh well," I finally say, embrace him goodbye, give a kiss to Mary who's helped and stroll outside into the warmth of a sunny day to make my home.