Somewhere in Mississippi

Somewhere in Mississippi there’s a welcoming rest area off of I-10 as you leave Louisiana heading east.

In Ernest Hemingway’s short story A Clean, Well-Lighted Place two waiters discuss an old drunk. It’s late. This guy is the last patron.

One waiter wants to give him the bum’s rush and get him out of there so they can go home. The other waiter understands all you need sometimes is a place to go to that’s clean, well lit, with a sense of order to dispel the darkness.

I read this story in my early twenties, maybe even my teens. The simplicity of the narrative belies its impact. You catch the whiff of despair underlying existence for many.

At some point you realize that maybe just maybe you can be that clean, well-lighted space for someone who needs it.

Your space might be listening. Or your space might be sparking a sense of camaraderie wherever you alight. Or your space might be connecting . . . truly connecting with those on the periphery.

A vision page on the fly
When one door closes another door opens, but it can be Hell in the Hallway