When Men Walk Together With Eggs

My friend Dan stopped by yesterday just before dusk, and we talked for a while, and then we opened the gate and walked across the pasture to the chicken house. I built the house last fall at this very time. My family was away, and every day for two weeks I worked alone on the house, the weather fine and bright with sunshine. I told Dan all about this while we were standing in with the chickens. How it was to build the house, and how one late afternoon I had put a lawn chair on the roof so as to sit close up with the coming dusk. The same moon and same Jupiter as now, I said, pointing out the windows at the horizon. Dan nodded. Dan’s a good friend. He understands the instinct to sit for a while on a roof with the moon and Jupiter. He understands the need to talk about early-winter Brussels sprouts. And he understood why we were ten minutes inside the chicken house watching the hens go to roost. When we went to leave, he lifted the hem of his wool sweater to make a pocket, and I gathered the day’s eggs. Thirteen eggs, green and blue and brown. Dan was careful with them as we walked. There was still light enough to see them. It was good walking there together with eggs.

5 responses to “When Men Walk Together With Eggs

  1. I’ve walked with eggs in the hem of my sweater. It’s a special feeling. Life is good when I have eggs in the hem of my sweater.

  2. Thank goodness for quiet gestures of such care.

  3. Oh, if only more gentlemen bonded in the vegetable fields over starry skies and Easter egg omelets for Christmas instead of battlefields over flags, the Earth would breathe easier. Thank you.

  4. There really is something so special about true friendship that goes beyond language. This post came mighty close.

  5. You are awesome. Thank you.

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