Bad Moon

I neglected to mention the weather last night convinced me that it was in my best interest to not venture the twenty miles or so to the monthly home game. Despite the grilled burgers that would await me no matter when I showed up, I thought about the level of stress to and from as I imagined deer and drunk drivers in the dense fog, and begged out.

Mike, the host of the game, is most gracious, as are his mother and lady friend who endure this men-only game. And those who have been with me for a while know the fun I often have at this game, regardless of winning or losing, so it just seemed fitting to bring a bottle of Mike's favorite booze (I don't know what the women drink, if at all). Again, if I had gone. Still, I had the bottle and it is not something I can bring myself to drink, so when I called to cancel, I asked if he would be around today so I could drop "a little something" off for him. He said he would.

Errands were to take me near his house, and I called as I approached. I got his voice mail and I informed it that said bottle would be left on his stoop.

Now, I mention all of this without any indication of the foul mood I was in while driving in the city, sent to search out something I was almost certain of not finding. So, even though all vehicles were accounted for in Mike's driveway, I thought better not to knock as I had no idea how long the game had gone last night, and I wasn't much interested in the ensuing small talk or pleasantries while my other goal remained elusive, so I did as I said I would.

It was not long before my cell rang.

"Did you leave a bag on my step?"

"Yes. I left a message for you and didn't know if you were home, asleep or what."

He did not thank me, which I found curious (see above). "Man, it's been a rough morning." He then proceeded to tell me about his girlfriend's son and that son's girlfriend dying in a motor home fire that morning. The fire was started at the doorway of the vehicle, which the police found suspicious, and though the couple apparently tried to escape through a window, they were unsuccessful.

I expressed my sympathies and hung up. I thought about how his girlfriend must feel. Then I thought about how my own mother feels so many years after my brother was killed.

And I'll leave it at that.