Powerball

I don’t know about hitting the powerball.  It’s up to 120 million which means the winner gets 30 m in her hot little hand.  They say it wrecks your life and maybe it does.  Dad always said you should have enough, just enough.  He sent me a poem once titled I Wish You Enough.  As much as I’d love to have that house on the canal – 6 bedrooms, 3 fireplaces, temperature-controlled wine room, 1.6 million dollars, I think about the beauty of simplicity.   Sometimes I think I was a monk in my last life.  Fellow teachers have often referred to me as a minimalist.  It’s true, I don’t like a lot of stuff on my desk and I despise clutter in any realm of my life.  Even the way I think is simple.  What’s the big picture, what’s the bottom line?

Each morning I drive by this little house on the way to school.  It sits peeking out from behind a thin thatch of trees and in its quiet and unassuming way whispers, What else could you need?  Its soul companion is a charcoal grill who stands guard on the narrow porch.  I have observed that the cottage does enjoy the company of a moped in the dirt driveway after working hours.

I wonder about the occupant.  Is it the grown son of the people in the rancher on the adjacent property? Is he deranged or a pariah?  Is he a pedophile or someone who should be living in his parents’ basement playing video games at 40 because there was always something different about him?  Is he a Buddhist who has figured it all out or is he an unfulfilled hater who drives by my community and thinks I am the 1%?  Maybe he works at Walmart as a greeter and resents anyone who has more because his dreams were dashed.

They say the more you own the more that owns you and I believe it.  I’m buying the Buddhist idea, that’s easiest.  Hopefully my sister will buy the powerball ticket.

 

 

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