Pink clouds greeted the sunrise in the small town of Grapewater, Mississippi. After a cold, harsh winter, spring finally kissed the land. Jonquils and Bradford Pears exploded in yellow or white bloom. A hunched-over 46-year-old emerged from a run-down two story Victorian home. Mr. Jay Jones walked to the end of his driveway and picked up the morning paper. He looked at the paper and smiled. Mr. Jones was old school: He loved his daily newspaper. With the folded bag under his arm, he headed back toward the front porch. It was time for him to check up on the world.
“Hmm,” Mr. Jones mumbled, “That’s bad. So sad. How horrible. Terrible. Shocking.”
Mr. Jones did this every morning. He scanned the stories, was mildly moved by them and then did nothing. Mr. Jones wasn’t exactly a doer. Like cars on the Grapewater Bypass, life passed Mr. Jones by.
Wild onions swayed slowly in the wind. “Guess I will have to get the mower fixed eventually.” Mr. Jones said to himself. The yard would get cut. Eventually.
Everything in life would happen eventually. His motto was “Why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?” He once was going to write that down. He never got around to it.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a stranger walking down the street. He was vaguely familiar — but Mr. Jones couldn’t quite put a face to a name. He wore a black Member’s Only jacket — which seemed dated but not that unusual considering the morning’s chill. His hair was black and even at this distance his black eyes looked like little specks of coal. Just seeing him made Mr. Jones shiver. Something about the man made the hair on his neck standup.
“Mornin’!” The stranger greeted Mr. Jones with a closed mouth smile.
“I’m not buying.” Mr Jones curtly replied.
“Oh, I’m not selling. I’m taking.”
Mr. Jones felt a chill when the man said it.
“What’s your name?” Mr. Jones engaged the man again, hoping to change the subject.
“You know who I am.”
Mr. Jone felt his heart go cold.
“I’ll give you my wallet,” Mr. Jones pleaded.
“I don’t need your money, Mr. Jones. I’m here for your soul.”
Mr. Jones felt fear grip his throat. Here he was, sitting at the crossroads and facing damnation. This could only happen in Mississippi.
“But I’ve been a good man.”
The stranger smiled, revealing yellowing, broken teeth. “That’s what they all say.”
Mr. Jones clutched his chest and winced from the pain. His life flashed before him. It was a life of procrastination and playing it safe.
“How…do….I….know….you?” Mr. Jones gasped at the stranger.
“I’ve been part of your life since you were born. I’m fear. I’m the very thing that kept you from living your life.”
Mr. Jones fell to his knees and thought about what the stranger had said. It had been fear that had kept him in his comfort zone. It had been fear that had kept him from going to college. From asking Mary Lou out. From traveling. From meeting new people. From leaving Grapewater. Fear had kept Mr. Jones from becoming the great man he had the potential of becoming. Fear caused him to piss away his life.
“Now, I’ll take your soul now. You’ve wasted your talent and you must pay.”
“PLEASE!…” Mr. Jones gasped as he looked at the rising sun. “PLEASE! I WILL CHANGE.”
The sun broke the horizon and lit the porch.
And for the first time in his life, Mr. Jones felt courage. He felt life surge through his veins. The stranger winced as Mr. Jones promised to live a proactive and productive life.
The stranger looked at the man on the porch and said, “I will be back for you.”
Mr. Jones, climbing to his feet, said definitely, “NO, no you won’t. This is the last time we shall meet.”
And it was.
The stranger went on his way. And on that cool Spring morning, Mr. Jones began to truly live his life.
The end is near. No, not the end of time — the end of Paul Lacoste’s winter PLS training. We have one more week after this. And then it’s over.
