He turned the show down, pretending
that the requirements were too much trouble. It probably wouldn't have
worked out, anyway, he thought. Some people have a knack for dangling
what you want in front of you; when you reach for it, it disappears.
Late in October he went over to Lorna's and said goodbye. She seemed
sad and a bit relieved. Molly had tears in her eyes and hugged him
wholeheartedly.
The next morning a cold rain was bringing down the leaves as Don
carried his bag to the bus station. The shoulders of his tan raincoat
were wet through when he boarded the Greyhound for Boston. Three rows
back, he found an empty seat by a window and looked out at the
glistening street. He saw a painting, full of light.
Waiting for Happiness
Spring comes late in Maine. Snow changes to rain; branch tips redden;
you can see your breath. Not a whole lot different than winter until
the daffodils, crab apples, and forsythia bloom. The sun skips off the
water, impossibly bright, impossibly blue. You can almost almost hear
the cracking of seeds, buried and forgotten.
Charlie Garrett was as hardnosed as most. He kept going, did what he
had to. "Ninety percent of success is showing up," Woody Allen said.
Charlie repeated that in dire times--before medical checkups or visits
to his brother, Orson.
Orson knew a lot about success and never hesitated to pass it on. "What
you need, Charlie, is a Cessna.
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