The inner prize

The cold stung his eyes as he shouldered the porch door open. He stopped for a moment to listen to the stillness of the morning, not a soul was moving nor dogs barking. Every morning Arthur would make the trek from the house to his paper-box gathering the morning news for his route. Crunch, crunch went the crusted snow almost echoing off the sleeping houses with their chimneys pumping out a fog keeping everyone warm. Another delivery another day, Art was thinking of Saturday, collection day when his customers would pay him for his labor....hopefully.

Arthur was a quiet kid with a few acquaintances but not many friends, none in fact that would call on him to play of sleepover. Arthur would say to himself "I'm too old for sleepovers anyway" as if that statement would bandage the loneliness of his heart. You see, every Monday the lunch table would be full of sleepover stories from kids his own age, laughing, joking and talking about the scary movies they watched. At 11 years old there really wasn't much else to look forward to. Oh sure, he'd pal around with kids after school but never make that super strong connect with someone to confide in.

Spring would come almost at the last minute which made Arthur very happy as he could ride his stingray bike along his route. This was a big help as he caught a few extra moments of sleep as he headed right off to school when he completed his job. On Saturday he chose to walk the route to collect, it gave him more time to organize his collection book. Walking to his assigned neighborhood took him by the only park close to his home, Seton Park. Wasn't much of anything really, open spaces with park benches and a small pond. In the winter all the kids would skate on the pond and play hockey. This Saturday Arthur saw the old man sitting on the bench along his route, he was a fixture on the bench except for winter. Arthur was always fascinated by the man who would notice him with a small wave with a stubby pencil in hand. Arthur would wave back and say "Hey, how are you today?". The man just shrugs his shoulders and look puzzled back at him.

This Saturday would be different Arthur said to himself, "I'm going to sit down and talk to this old geezer". He plopped down next to the old man like he was tired out and needed a quick rest. He nodded and said "I'm Arthur, your paperboy" The old man looked Arthur in the eyes and smiled, out of his front pocket came a small black journal. The old man quickly scribbled something in it then shared it with Arthur. My name is Eugene, I am deaf, so we need to use my journal to talk. Arthur looked up after reading this and said "Thats great, my name is Arthur". Almost immediately Arthur was embarrassed. "This guy can't hear me!" Eugene made a sound like laughing, and smiled at Arthur, waving his hand in a gesture saying its OK. He handed Arthur the journal, in it Eugene had written a question - Tell me about yourself?. Arthur didn't know what to say, no one had ever asked him about himself before. Arthur stared at the ground for a few moments then wrote - I wish I had some real friends. He handed the journal back feeling weird he shared that with the old guy.

Eugene studied Arthur's face then wrote -A true friend is like a seed, it must be cared for in order to grow. He handed the book back, Arthur read the words out loud and smiled. Eugene waved Arthur off as if to tell him he had work to do. Eugene turned his attention to the journal and began writing furiously, Arthur touched his shoulder and waved bye, Eugene nodded. Arthur completed his collection rounds and headed home, thinking about who he was going to pick as his "seed" to grow a friendship.

"Mom, how do you pick a friend?" Arthur asked. His mother wasn't pleased with the question and asked him what he was trying to pull, "Whats the matter nobody wants to play with you?" "I don't blame them really" "You're a boring kid" Arthur spoke to himself, I should have known better than to ask her. It was a confusing time for her, late in life surprise baby, trapped in the house raising a child at forty five. Arthur went to his room, laying on the bed thinking about what Eugene wrote. "I'm gonna ask Eugene!" Off he went, instead of hanging on the fence watching others play baseball, the headed for SetonPark. There was Eugene, writing in his journal, the sun was out and it was a beautiful day. Arthur ran up in front of him waving like his hands were on fire. Eugene looked up and handed him the journal and pencil. Arthur couldn't get it down fast enough, the big question, so he just wrote one word - How? Eugene wrote back -I'll be your seed. Arthur was so happy his eyes were light up like sparklers. "OK! We are now friends!" Eugene pointed to the journal, Arthur scribbled it down for him. Eugene extended his hand, Arthur shook it wildly, Eugene laughed and laughed writing - Don't shake the tree so hard you'll lose all the fruit.

This was a big moment for Arthur, a true friend. Days came and went, the two got along better and better with Eugene handing out life wisdom like hard candy. Not to be consumed in one bite but to be savored and given thought so you may grow. Arthur felt himself changing, especially his outlook on others. No longer jealous of the high school cliques, but searching and studying those that would fit his vision of growing up and sharing. By now he had shared everything with Eugene, his fears, his crushes on the girls, everything. Eugene always seemed to anticipate his questions. One thing Arthur wasn't allowed to see is the pages in the back of the journal. He never asked Eugene or hinted that he wanted to see them, but couldn't resist thinking about those back pages.

Fall had come in like a lion making the walk to Seton Park a bone chilling affair. Arthur happily bundled up and took an extra scarf for Eugene. Because it seemed he was oblivious to the cold. Always writing an scribbling in that journal. Arthur had some big news to share with his friend at the park. Arthur had a girlfriend!. He couldn't wait to tell Eugene.

As he rounded the final corner he noticed a woman sitting on the bench but, couldn't see Eugene. As he approached the bench the woman spoke " Is your name Arthur?" "Why, yes, yes, it is" I'm waiting for my friend Eugene have you seen him?" The woman's eyes began to well up as a small river of tears traced her cheeks, she choked out "Eugene's died". Those words hit Arthur like sledgehammer, his head began to pound, he fell to his knees in front of the bench where Eugene sat for years. Nothing could stop the mushroom cloud of emotions as it traveled from his heart northbound. Arthur exploded in a wail of tears, rolling on the ground, just baling. The tears would not stop. The woman helped Arthur up and comforted him rocking and shushing him softly as the sat on the bench. What seemed like hours passed turned out to be less than that. Arthur listened quietly as the woman explained that she was Eugene's niece Carol. Carol told Arthur how her Uncle would write long notes about how good a friend you are and how you listen and learned. He wrote you would make a difference in this world. Then Carol did something extraordinary, she produced the black journal from her handbag complete with the stubby pencil. She handed it to Arthur and told him Eugene wanted you to keep this forever and always think of your true friendship as you read it.

Arthur made his way home after thanking Carol and went directly to his room. There would be no sleeping tonite. Arthur poured over the journal from beginning sometimes laughing out loud, sometimes crying without shame. The back pages were rubber banded aside. Should he read them?

Months past, Arthur finally decided he would read the last two pages that Eugene had so closely guarded. What better way to honor him but to sit on our bench. Arthur headed out the door as rain would shortly be pouring down. Situated on the bench he looked around to make sure the coast was clear. Arthur laughed, "There's nobody here you dummy". The beat up journal came out of his overcoat, he waited a moment like he was unsure it was OK. Off came the rubber bands, he shoved them into his pocket, rifling to the back he began to read: Arthur James Woods, I never really managed to give you everything and if your reading this I am no longer with you. There is one secret I have keep from you my true friend and of that I am ashamed and hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive me. I have been watching you from afar for a long time. Our chance meeting wasn't chance at all, you see I was there when you were born. I was the first to hold you all swaddled up. I named you after my father and grandfather. Arthur you are my son. I loved you from the moment you were conceived and have noted your transition from boy to young man, feeling the pride of a father yet unable to share it. I leave you with the only thing of value that I have left, my black journal and memories of our friendship that I hope you treasure. Go forth and show the world just how special you are! I love you. Your Father, Eugene.

Arthur looked up to the threatening sky and smiled, this black book will become his inspiration as he tackled the world. His father's journal made it all the way to his teenage daughter where it served as a talking point when relationship ever bumped the rocks. And to think it all started with a small wave.