“Boss, I’m tired.  Real tired, Boss.”

I think I’m lifting this from “The Green Mile” movie.  My apologies.

I looked at a photo this morning of a Mama, holding her  year old daughter.  The baby’s still wearing diapers.  The doctors say the baby will live only one to three months.  I hate they make angel wings that small.

Yesterday, there was a photo of a thirteen year old girl.  She’s missing, a runaway.  She is blond headed, blue eyes, dimples, a smile as big as Texas.  Just as pretty as any movie star.  I hope she gets home by nightfall.  Her Mom and Dad are begging.

Then there was a photo of the son of a guy I knew in high school.  A brain cancer just after the kid got his first real job.

This week, down in Florida, a town is burying it’s kids and putting band-aids on the survivors.  All the while scratching their heads and asking why or how.  And, another kid sitting in a jailhouse.  We don’t have a clue what’s going on in his mind.

Tomorrow, I’m sure it will be something else.

Forty-five years ago, I had to have an operation.  I was trying to pass a kidney stone as big as Nebraska I didn’t know I could hurt that much.

The doctor came in that night, put his hand on my shoulder and said “Tomorrow we’re going in and snatch that stone out of your kidney.”

I didn’t know he was going to cut a hole in my side big enough to stick his hand in.

A day after the operation, the nurse came by, smiled and said I needed to stand up.  She said it may hurt a little.  My hurting had already gone way past “hurting a little.”

My Dad came to my rescue.  He walked over by my bedside.  He reached down, put his arms around me and helped me get out of bed.

“How are you doing, Mike?” he asked.  “I’m dying!”

He laughed.  “You’re not dying.  You’re just hurting.”

“Dad, I’ve been hurting for a week.  I’m tired of hurting.”  Then I cursed only like a kid should curse in front of his father.

“Mike, they cut you wide open yesterday.  You’re going to get well.  Your hurting is going to go away. You’ll be alright, you just need a couple of days.” he said, as only a father can say when he has a child that’s hurting.

As we walked to the end of the hall, I turned to him.  “Dad, I’m just real tired of hurting right now.”

“Son, it’s going to get better. You just need to have a little faith.”

“When?” I asked.

Right now, I’m tired again.  And, my Dad is long gone.

I want to see something good.  I’m looking for kids having fun being kids, eating ice cream, Kids with snotty noses and gap-tooth smiles.  Not dodging bullets hitting chalkboards and school desks.

I’m tired of seeing all this pain right now.

Real tired, Boss.


Please feel free to share.  I welcome your comments and thoughts.  Contact Mike Windham at amwindham100@gmail.com.  You can follow my blog at mikewindham.com.

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