We're driving home and I'm listening to his dreams and far fetched wants, all the never-going-to-happens and could-be's are filling in the blanks and adding depth, like shading to my mental drawing. As we stop, I think to myself that a hundred million hypothetical dollars is so worth watching this man poke his smiling face through the door, and gleefully proclaim "I'm going to go buy a lottery ticket!" He slams the door and I watch his back as he runs through the cold gas station, zigzagging across the parking lot with a youthful enthusiasm, so uncharacteristic of his age. A sigh and a smile. Sometimes I'm the old one.
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