I had gone shopping for a few things today, and stopped by the gas station on my way back. I walked in like normal and stood in line. There was a long line and a woman standing off to the side leaning on the counter looking sad. As I got closer, the clerk asked her, “Are you going to be alright hon?”
  The lady said nothing and shook her head no. The clerk spoke to another customer saying that the lady had just told her that she was about to have a seizure. Then she told the lady to sit down and she would go get her mom in a moment. There were still like 4 of us in line and I couldn’t stand there and do nothing.
  Some people have the ability to sense a seizure coming on, and if she really was about to have one, I didn’t want her to fall and get hurt. I walked up to her and offered to help her sit, as she looked very shaky and was trying to sit on the floor. I got an arm and helped lower her to the floor as I was telling the clerk I would go get the mom. Suddenly the lady dropped into the seizure.
  I told the clerk to go get the mom immediately as I took hold of the back of the lady’s neck so she didn’t slam her head into anything. I held onto her throuought the ordeal and her mom came in after it was over and helped as well. She had been sitting against the ice cream bin, so we slid her down all the way to the floor and another customer gave us a sweater to put under her head.
  She awoke confused and didn’t remember anything prior to it. I understand this happens often. She didn’t even remember leaving the house today. We helped her up and were walking her to the car as she was talking with her mom. “Where are we? We aren’t at home. I don’t remember coming here.” Then she looked at me, then back to her mom while she motioned toward me, “I remember him tho. I don’t know who he is, but I remember him.”
  I was floored. Why would she remember me? I would figure that I’d be forgotten like everyone and everything else. I helped her into the car, told them to take care, patted her mom on the back and told her it would all be ok, and went to my car where I cried almost all the way home.
  This is the second person in the last few months that I happened to be in the right place at the right time to help like this. It freaks me out a bit, because my father had a seizure just before he landed in the hospital where he died so it brings back a lot of emotions that i dont enjoy dealing with. But when I’m there, I am calm and alert. I seem to handle the situation well until it’s all over. I’m thankful for that! Could it be that I’m being shown part of my purpose in life? I don’t know what it means, or if it actually means anything at all… but one thing is for sure… I’m happy I was able to help.

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Nonsensical mutterings,
Screaming at the voices,
A desolate wasteland,
Of discarded beer bottles,
Cigarette butts and trash.
Along with discarded dreams,
Aspirations and people,
I watch them sleep,
On cold concrete,
What promise they once held,
Destroyed by circumstance,
I sit with them and listen,
To the stories they weave,
Such intelligence and humbleness,
One would do well,
To listen to their advice,
All gone now,
Quiet,
I’m waiting for my bus

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    Something about the way the sky looked last evening made me pull over and snap a shot.
    The building under construction, backlit by the setting sun, put me in a contemplative mood.
    Sometimes the setting sun is beautiful. This time it looked beautifully evil. Like a nuclear explosion in the distance. I caught myself wondering if possibly there could be zombies or cannibals residing in the building over yonder.
    Then I thought of all the other people possibly looking at the sunset at the same time. What were they thinking? How many of them were wondering where they took a wrong turn in life, missing a lost loved one, contemplating suicide? Were any of them moved to tears at such a beautiful sight in such a shitty world?
    I have a couple friends who enjoy pictures, and one who takes them quite a bit. I wonder, what does this picture make you think of?

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The pathway worn by thousands of feet,
never ceases to amaze me.
So many people have walked here,
but the feeling of isolation remains.
I once walked this path with my father,
as I now walk it with my son.
Showing him the beauty of the world,
one path at a time.
I miss my father beyond what words can express,
but he lives on, in my heart, hands, and soul.
One day perhaps my son will walk here  with his child,
and fondly remember these times.