Another brick in the wall

I had lunch yesterday with my grandfather at his nursing home---I mean, Retirement Facility. He always sits at the same seat at the same table. Bob was there sitting at my right. That's where he likes to sit. He had a sandwhich. Bob always has a sandwhich: for lunch and dinner, everyday. My grandfather told me a lot of stories. He always tells stories. They are mostly ones I've heard many times. He's always told stories. We talked about the same things we normally discuss. Later, we went up to his room. He sat in his favorite recliner. I sat across from him in a rolling, desk chair. I always do that when I visit him. He's lived there for a number of years now. He's eighty-five. He's outlived a lot of people. Others there have come and gone, lived and died. Some are still there--in their same places, eating their same meals, sharing well-worn stories, and helping each other get by.
I am at work today at the hell-hole---I mean Air Traffic Center. I parked in my usual spot. I always park there. We don't have assigned parking, but I noticed that most people park in the same places anyway, everyday. There was a gray Chrysler parked to my left. It's always parked there. The tall guy will walk in right after me. He brings his luch: a frozen, frenchbread pizza. He likes them. He brings one everyday. He'll then place it in the freezer for later. Later today, I'm sure I'll see Greg. He'll say, "What's up, Wad?" (Don't ask) I'll reply, "Not much, Weas" I don't recall how we assigned ourselves those nicknames, but we like them all the same. We've used those greetings for years. Later, I'll go to the cafeteria. Today they'll serve gyros and also fish of some kind. Friday is gyro day. Every Friday. Maybe, I'll sit next to Harry. He's worked here for over twenty years. He's outlasted a lot of people. Others here have come and gone, lived and died. Some are still here--using their same parking places, eating the same meals, sharing well-worn greetings, and helping each other get by.
I found out I have a mental disorder that will require me to take a disability retirement from my job. I'm thirty years old. I've worked here for six years. Most people will work here longer than that. (Others will come and go, live and die, or stay until they are fifty-six.)
Maybe I'll move in with my grandpa. I like his stories. I'm sure his desk chair is empty and waiting. There's plenty of parking, and the food is pretty good.
I wonder what sandwhich Bob will have today?

To find out more about bipolar disorder:
http://www.nimh.nih.gov/Publicat/bipolar.cfm




Ben Wilcox