Jack Tait has a sore head and a sore heart.

Jack Tait woke up with a pounding head and blurry eyes.  he no longer could tell if he was sick or it was just old age.  he remembered being a kid and someone telling him that getting old was good.  “You are much more stable when you are older.  more stable.  more wisdom.  getting old is a blessing.”  Jack forgot who told him this.  he forgot many things in his old age.  his mind finally succumbing to forty years of booze and forty years of drugs.  both legal and illegal.  the legal ones sometimes causing more harm than the illegal.  a ferris wheel of thoughts and a rollercoaster of emotions.  Jack Tait’s head was still pounding three minutes later and his eyes were still blurry.  he drank two coffees and ate one piece of a bagel with peanut butter on it.  the natural kind.  Jack Tait was trying to get healthy.  Finally.  his one success in the world was not getting cancer.  he dreaded the dreaded disease and he knew that it had ripped many families apart and had taken many strong men and many strong women down but for some reason it had never affected Jack Tait.  Not yet anyhow.
Jack Tait left his deserted farmhouse in the middle of nowhere and hopped on his blue tricycle.  he needed to get his exercise in before he sat back down on his shitty purple recliner and masturbated for four hours.  Jack Tait rode his bike down the long driveway and exited his haven of peace and quiet.  he knew that he was going to meet sad people and angry people and sometimes even sad and happy people all in the same body.  he was once one of those people.  now he is just lonely.
Jack Tait rode past red stop signs and old stores.  he also rode past farms and people in carriages with horses carrying them from town to town.  Mennonites hanging on to some sort of long lost past where men and women waited to get married before having sex but then once the sex was allowed they did nothing but fuck and produce babies and their babies would eventually become eighteen and they would get married and then they would do nothing but fuck and produce babies.  lost souls in lost towns everywhere.
Jack Tait rode for three hours and in that three hours saw more and felt more than most humans see and feel in a lifetime.  he was naked and he was open.  he was alive and he was optimistic even though he was sad and had one ball.  aches and pains being forgotten while thoughts of his daughter crept to the forefront of Jack’s diminishing mind.  he thought of her graduation and her ukulele.  he thought of the time that he took her on a date to a very hip restaurant in Toronto.  he also thought of the time she fell off of her scooter and broke her two front teeth and broke her wrist.  he remembered seeing the fear in her eyes and the blood on her hands and shirt and mouth.  Jack began to cry as he wished one big motherfucking wish that he could live with his daughter forever.  that he would go to movies with her and ski with her and play bad board games with her and even listen to her gossip about the bratty kids in school.  Jack Tait stopped his tricycle and began to get dizzy.  his head was still pounding.  his back was sore.  his eyes blurry and wet from the crying.  he sat on the soft shoulder and counted the rolls on his hairy belly.  he looked up at the sky and then looked at the vast and empty farm fields.  he tried to stop crying but he couldn’t.  his heart was pounding and sore.  his breath was becoming fast and weak.  coughing.  choking.  alone.  side of the empty rode.  shaky hands and shaky fingers.  nothing working the way it once did.  “getting old is good?”
Jack Tait picked up his blue tricycle and walked home.  naked.  alone.  choices in life.  loves lost.  but loves never forgotten.  love should be the most important thing in this world but love is lost and narcissism is rampant.  selfies and shared stupid dog tricks.  Jack Tait wanted love.  he wanted life.  he wanted a big family filled with love and respect but instead walks silently home with sore feet and sore muscles.  but nothing hurts more than his lonely heart.