Jon held the door for the old man as he stepped out onto the back porch. Carl carried a couple of glasses of sweet tea and Jon followed with a small plate with some sliced fresh peaches.  He had stopped at a roadside produce stand sitting just off the blacktop on his way down to North Carolina earlier in the day. It was an unplanned, spur of the moment stop. The best kind.  But as he saw it on the roadside up ahead, something about it had reminded him of his childhood, and the many roadside stands he’d see on trips with his parents.  With the shelves and bins piled with tomatoes, corn, and melons.  Fresh produce of all kinds. And the man or woman at the counter whose sweat had produced the bounty.   His mother loved stopping at these stands on the back roads near their Pennsylvania home, and Jon had fond memories of those stops, and of her joy at finding and buying whatever was in season. It had been too long now since he’d been to one.  Peach season.  Is there anything better?  Besides, say, strawberry season or tomato season or corn season or bean season or whatever else was perfect “in the moment”.

Jon didn’t really do spontaneous stuff like that much anymore, but he made this unplanned stop without really thinking about it.  He was beginning to learn, these last few months, that unplanned stops are often the best kinds of stops when out on the road. He bought a jar of honey. The kind with a section of the honey-comb packed right in the jar. He picked up a small brown paper bag and put a couple of peaches in it for himself, and a cold drink for the road. Then, sort of as an afterthought, he figured Carl would enjoy some peaches as well. So he put the two from the bag back on the shelf, and instead took a basket of the peaches for the old man and paid the woman at the table behind the cash box.

When he got to Carl’s house, Jon was thrilled with the old man’s joy in seeing the fruit.  So he went ahead and peeled and sliced a couple of the ripe freestones in the kitchen while the old man poured up the ice tea. They made small talk about Jon’s trip down from Easton. How early did he get on the road? Where did he stop for lunch? … that sort of thing.   Jon told him about the woman at the stand and how somehow that stop had made him happy. How it had prompted the fond memories of his mom.   He was glad to see the old man smiled at that admission.

Out on the porch Jon noticed once more how well the old man got around given that he had just turned 87. Carl sat in the rocking chair by the rail, and Jon took a seat on the porch swing with a few weathered and tattered cushions, and sipped his tea.  The heat from the late afternoon sun was beginning to give way to the breeze blowing across the porch.  This porch, on this swing, with this wonderful old fellow was as fine a place to let the stress of a day’s driving dissipate as any place Jon could think of.

As they settled in, Carl reached over, took a peach slice from the plate on the table beside him and bit into it.  He motioned for Jon to take a slice.

“These are good. Gonna be even better in a few days. Ain’t much in this world as tasty as a Georgia peach in peak season.”

Carl looked at Jon and asked, “So how you doing, son?”

Jon loved how he called him “son”. He called him “son” in a way that Jon had never really heard his own father say that word. Somehow, even though it was a casual comment, it seemed full of respect and love and admiration. It was just a word, but it meant so much to him.

He started to say, “I’m okay”, but then he stopped.

Jon looked at the old man, sitting there on the porch in the sideways light of the North Carolina summer evening. Even though the two of them had really only been together a handful of times on these recent trips south, Carl was easy to talk to, and they had gotten close very quickly.

Still, Jon surprised himself when he heard the words come out of his own mouth. “I don’t know Carl.  I’m lost and lonely. Life just seems out of whack.”

Immediately Jon wondered why he had said it. He hadn’t planned for this visit to be a confessional. But Carl sat there, waiting. Jon didn’t know what to say next. How do you follow something like that anyway? But the words came from somewhere.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m ok. … but not really all THAT ok. Oh hell, I don’t know. I guess I’m smart enough to know that everybody probably feels this way from time to time.  And yet, we go on pretending to everyone around us that everything is okay.”

Carl was still looking at him, but didn’t speak.  He was a good listener, and was waiting for Jon to finish.

So Jon continued, “I don’t know. It’s like, I stopped for coffee when I got on the road first thing this morning, and the girl at the counter asks, “How are you this morning?” I said “Fine”, but she’s not really listening … and wouldn’t WANT me to say, ‘I’m not really all that great, thank you very much.’  Or, I go into work most days and people say, ‘Hey Jon! How’s it going?’ I say “fine” and then, “How ‘bout you?” and we nod and smile and talk for a few minutes about nothing at all, and then we each go on our merry way.”

Jon was getting wound up now. “I’ll come home most evenings and Ellen says, “Hey, how was your day?” I say “fine”.  But she’s not even looking at me.  But that’s okay, because I’m not looking at her either and I’m not sure I care anymore.  I don’t have the guts to ever say to people, I’m damn-well NOT “fine”. MOST days I’m not “fine.” Carl, I can’t even put my finger on exactly what it is …. But things aren’t ok.”

Carl sat there rocking, thinking. Jon was quiet now. He could hear the creaking of his porch swing swaying back and forth, the breeze in the trees, and the sound of some young kids playing somewhere in the distance. It seemed like a full minute before either spoke.  It was probably only a few seconds.  Carl broke the silence. “How long have you felt this way, son?”

“A long time.” Jon took a breath. “And it’s getting worse. I mean, I’m not nuts.  And it’s not like I’m on the verge of a breakdown or anything. I don’t know. Like I said, I know everybody has times where the world just seems to close in. The problem comes when those days start to pile up, one on top of the other. Trust me when I say that is no way to live.” A moment’s hesitation and then, “No damn way to live.” Jon wasn’t looking at Carl, so he couldn’t see the loving care in the old man’s eyes.

“Nope.” Carl said as he leaned back his head and looked up at the ceiling fan slowly circulating the evening air on the porch. “No way to live, that’s for sure.”

Carl stopped rocking and leaned forward a bit. He spoke again. He reached out and put his hand gently on Jon’s knee. His voice was full of love, and very, very quiet. “Here’s the thing, son. Being lost doesn’t mean you’ll never find your way. And being lonely doesn’t mean you’ll always be alone. Things do just pile up sometimes and life just gets overwhelming.  It would be nice if things always just worked themselves out.  That’s not the way the world works though.  I’ve lived through enough hard times to know that there are no easy answers to the sort of thing I think you’re talking about.  But I also believe there’s light on the other side of these struggles.  And you WILL find it.”

Jon listened. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he remembered his grandma telling him one time when he was a kid how important it was to sometimes just shut up and listen. Of course, she said it nicer than that. Something about how being a good listener is a gift you give to others.

Carl asked, “Where’s all this coming from? Did something happen? Something with you and Ellen? Or the kids?”

“No,” Jon said. “Things are just always so out of whack. There’s no balance in my life. At work it’s rush, rush, rush on this project then that one. At home I feel like a stranger in my own house. I’m losing perspective on what it all means. I don’t like my job. I’m irritable half the time. I snap at the kids. I’m short and sarcastic with Ellen. Even when they’re not doing anything wrong. That’s not me. I’m not ‘that’ guy. I’m just not.” Jon sipped his tea. “I mean, I love my wife… or I think I do…. And I know I have people who love me, and yet I don’t feel loved.”   He thought to himself he was going into more detail than he should, but the old man was just so easy to talk to.  “This is great.” Jon said.  It sounded like he was changing the subject, but he wasn’t.  “Right here, right now. I just want to live a peaceful life.” Jon made a vague motion with his hand and added, “Peaceful like this right here, right now on your porch.” He forced a smile.

Carl leaned back and touched the tips of his fingers together in thought.  Then, after a moment leaning in again.  “Jon, listen to me. Finding balance, order, and peace is possible. It is. There is no shame in being vulnerable enough to admit you can’t always find them easily. Son, we’ve talked enough these last few months for me to know you’re an intelligent and passionate young man.”  When he spoke, there was something in his voice that Jon had never heard before. Not authority exactly. Maybe certainty? Yes, that was it. Certainty and gravitas. A certainty that only comes with age and experience. And not always even then.

Carl smiled to himself as if he’d just thought of something.  “You’re your grandma’s boy for sure Jon. You’re clever and quick and bright as they come. Grace was like that. Always was. But intelligence and passion aren’t always enough to see you through. The problem with being clever, is you fool yourself into believing that you should always be able to ‘think’ your way through your troubles. Not gonna happen, son. Sometimes, the troubles we face are caused by how hard it is for us to simply BE present right here in the moment.  Nothing else. Just to BE here right now, wherever you are. You have it in your power … each of us does …. to elevate the quality of THIS moment by practicing gratitude, love, and compassion. Not much else matters” Carl stopped and looked out across the yard. “Your grandma knew that Jon, and she lived her life that way every day.”

Jon had never heard Carl talk like this. Carl hesitated a bit, and then looked back at Jon, “Or at least, she lived her life like that every day that I knew her. Hell, Grace was the one that taught me to believe it. Believe me when I say that she put up with more crap than any person I’ve ever known.”   Carl hadn’t mentioned Jon’s grandpa, but Jon was pretty sure the “crap” he was talking about was all about grandpa Henry and what a bastard he could be at times.

Carl looked away for a moment, but not before Jon could see that the old man’s eyes were at that place where they haven’t yet started to water…. but almost. Then he said even more quietly still, as if he wasn’t really talking to anyone in particular, “I don’t know anybody who was less deserving of that crap. She was the most peaceful and gracious and kind person I ever knew.  And she was a damn good friend.” Jon could tell Carl was trying to will his emotions back into control. Not entirely successfully.

“Jon, Grace told me something once, and I’ve never forgotten the words. It was just after I joined the army. But before I shipped out. She said, Carl the choices you make in THIS moment lead you closer to peace … or, further away from it. Choose peace, she said.” Carl was looking lovingly at Jon now. “I was never as good at it as I should have been. Never as good at it as she was. But son, you’ve got enough of her in you that I’m sure you can do that. The only way you’ll get rid of the fear and the uncertainty and the loneliness is by living as fully as you can … one day, one moment at a time. Choose peace, son.” Carl reached over and put his hand on Jon’s shoulder. His eyes were beyond moist now. “Choose love. When you’ve got the chance …. And you’ve always got the chance……choose love.”

Carl’s hand was still on Jon’s shoulder. He gave a little squeeze, then leaned back and ate another slice of peach.

They sat there in silence, listening to the tree frogs in the fading light. Several minutes passed and Jon could tell that Carl’s mind was far away.

This time it was Jon’s turn to break the silence. “We’ve only got a little bit of daylight left and it’s a nice night. Would you go with me out to the cemetery to see grandma’s grave? I think I have a few things I want to tell her.”

Carl smiled. “Sure, son. Let’s go. Bring the peaches.  Grace always loved peaches.”