Life Lines

I am done with the dishes. The kitchen floor is swept clean of crumbs and bits of chopped veggies. I now massage some lotion on my knobby fingers and veiny hands. I had let go of my household help for more than a year now, and the ritual of kneading lotion into my tired hands after some house work has become a habit.

The Taxi Cab Chronicles

The cab driver pressed the start button on his meter machine as I settled in at the back of his cab for the ride to the airport. I requesed that the volume of his radio be turned down a bit before I started praying the rosary.

As is usually the case, traffic is heavy and I am done with my prayers even before we are one-forth of the way to the airport. I check my watch and glance at the huge billboards on the side of the road as the cab makes its slow progress.

For the next hour or so, the cab is my world and the driver my silent companion. And is usually the case, something catches my eye that I make an audible comment inside the cab. As is usually the case, the driver responses with his own thoughts.