Joe

 

I am either a simpleton – or a buffoon.

Else how have I come to this?

I stand here, my teeth chattering from the cold.  It is not the middle of winter but it might as well be – in the threadbare clothes I wear.  I just had to get out… try to clear my head.  On this, darkest of all nights, I’m wondering just which of my blessings has lead me so far astray.  How did I come to this?  Am I not a just man?  Have I not been peaceable, even-handed and kind?  And, still, look at me… left like a beggar in a town I can no longer call home. 

When was there work that I was too proud to take?  Has it ever gotten me more than bread money?  “Getting ahead” has been completely replaced with just keeping debtors paid.  What sort of life is that for a man?

And what of her?

I would not blame her if she ran off this night – this cold, sharp night – where the stars cast so clear a shadow that I can see it too mocking me.  She depends on me and, in this too, I can provide little better than a street to sleep on.  I see the looks we get.  “Homeless”, they mutter as we pass, “trash” or worse they must be thinking.  She thinks of me as an artisan but I am nothing more than nails and hinges.  I am a builder of boxes and tables.

Look at these hands… dirty, empty, and useless for the task ahead.  How does she dare to hold them?  I’m only good to stand out here in the cold.

Here in the depth of uncertainty, in a hard-bitten town, on a cold, bleak night – as hopeless as man can be – in this night she tells me the child will come.  Why here?  Why now?  Why have a child at all in these miserable times?  All that is swept aside as this man of splinters is cast as father.  How can I hope to feed and rear a child when I can barely provide for her?

I know how others must see me.  It doesn’t help that the child isn’t mine.  My family must think I’ve gone crazy – and maybe I have.  I have honestly considered divorce – it might just be easier for all concerned.  But, even though I see the hard, hard road ahead, I…  I cannot walk away from it.  My pride, my faith, whatever it is that I’ve learned, all that I am leads me to this one night and one future and, except for this moment of self-pity, I am glad to bear it.  Because, more than any other reason, I do love her.

Let me not be written down for a single thing; Let my works be dust before the sun rises; Let anything I achieve be erased and no record of my passing be made but this one:

I am Joseph, a man grateful to be loved by she who, tonight, becomes the mother of God incarnate.

Reviews

[Michael X]

wow, one never knows where you arfe going to end up leaving the reader, but alwats in
a state of amazement, "joe"..lol, thats clever, and the entire focus of the writing is
excellent, as each word is carefully chosen the accentuate the endearing meaning,
the depth of thought put forth is really captivating and garbs the heart and doesnt let go.
excellent work here barry, i found the entire messege, enlightening, in way of new perspective.

[Angelheaded Hipster]

This is a great story...from Joseph's side....we don't hear about "Dad", which always has interested me...what ever happened to him? I must say...he was a good man to have stayed with her...I bet he knew, and was proud...