As it happened, it was the coldest night the town had seen in a decade. All the derelicts and castaways of society were trying to secure shelter against nature's most inhospitable elements. Almost all of them, that is. One tired and aging fellow was leaning against the alley-facing brick wall of a building that had burned down the previous season. There was no hurry to clean up such eyesores in this part of town. No one cared how, or even if, its residents lived. They were the jetsam of humanity. Poor creatures who once had lives just like yours and mine now scrambled for the smallest of luxuries, such as a half-smoked cigarette still smoldering in the street or the remainder of a sandwich someone had discarded.

 The old man seemed to be talking to himself, just barely above a whisper. But, of course, no one troubled himself to see if there was a problem. An eavesdropper, if so inclined, would have been able to make out part of the conversation. Shall we roll back time just a little and listen in on his soliloquy? He's probably beyond caring anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Darien Christopher", he said, slowly lowering himself to sit on a broken concrete block. "That's my given name. But you may call me Chris, or perhaps 'D'."

 "Of course I realize that you don't know me well enough to address me with such familiarity. And well off you are for the fact. To be familiar with the likes of me would be to drag yourself to the very depths into which I've fallen. For anyone of familiar acquaintance to me would definitely be tagged as tainted from association by most polite society.

 "Nonetheless, I appreciate the drink. You couldn't begin to imagine how long it's been since I've had a decent scotch. About the only offering I've been able to cast upon the altar of my vices of late has been a discarded bottle of Muscatel I found in a doorway.

"Please, don't look so disgusted. I wouldn't wish it upon you, but you never know which way the wind may shift your own fortunes. You may not believe it to look at this weathered and beaten countenance, but there was a time when I was considered handsome by some. Ambitious, even ruthless, by others. It all depends upon to whom you spoke, of course.

 "There was a period in my life in which I experienced events so fantastic, or so I would have believed when but a youth, that they must have been only imagined. My life had become one great sampling after another, and nearly everything I desired I received.

 "Yes. To be sure, there were negative sides to this hedonism, but they seemed quite trivial at the time. Most subtle and seductive. I desired a luxury automobile and it was mine. I desired fine food and drink and I was not disappointed. I desired pleasure and various aspects of this indulgence I enjoyed repeatedly.

 "I had the respect of my colleagues in my field of endeavor. In some instances, I even had their envy. I was not what most would call rich (actually I sought no financial stores), but I was quite comfortable. Sometimes, shamefully so.

 "Now, my comfort is graded on an entirely different scale. I am appreciative of a doorway in which to sleep or a soup line that promises more soup than line. I cannot remember ever savoring so sweetly the simple taste of plain white bread before I became part of the debris swept away by the reversals of fortune.

 "I do not mean to indicate that I was ever cruel to the poor. Nor did I withhold assistance from those who hungered. But, indeed, it was from my surplus that I offered alms. It was from sympathy, not empathy, that I tendered these gifts. I quite honestly had no idea how desolate such an existence could be.

 "A little humility can be good for the soul, but to be without hope is to break the spirit."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Your offer is most kind, but I don't think you understand what I have just said. There are those who could make fine use of it. As for myself, I would feed my vices and then be in worse condition than I am at this moment. You see, I am as I am. Though I know the error of my path, it is my path and I am unable to stray from it.

 "Do not offer your money to such as I. If you were to allow me a cup of broth and half a loaf, I should fare much better than to have the temptation of silver. As you can see, I travel lightly. I carry nothing anyone but myself would consider of value.

 "The rock, you ask? .....Oh, this tiny stone! Well, as you can see it is just a common pebble. Not even worth its weight in street dust. At least, not to anyone but me. If you have the time, and if you would care to tarry while I ramble on, I will tell you of this stone and why I carry it.

 "Good! For I appreciate the company, and the telling of my association with this small fragment of the earth has always given me an inner warmth. And this is such a night that one can use all the warmth he may apprehend. And, may I compliment your generosity for this repast. It seems to me quite uncommon that one of your apparent station should reward a poor vagabond thus for allowing him to burden you with remnants of a life so poorly vested. But alas, I ......"

"Oh, yes! The stone! I was just getting to that. It was only an ordinary pebble, a small stone I had slipped into my pocket thirty years ago. I have no idea why I kept it. I was, in those days, a very emotional person - far less logical than I would have liked to have been. But I believe I was much more alive then."

 "What do you mean.............. 'Funny I should say that!'?"

 "Oh, well.......... shall I continue?"

 "Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~~

"It was nearly a three hour drive from my home to the shopping center where we would meet each other. Then we would take my car to the park where she and I would have a picnic lunch. She lived near the park, but I would have to travel about one hundred fifty miles to get there.  

"It may not make much sense to most people to spend six hours in transit for a two hour luncheon and walk in the park. But, to me, it was well worth the trip to see her again - even if it would be only for a few minutes.

 "As she saw it, we were good friends spending a little time catching up on the events of each other's lives. I also felt that way regarding her, but to me it was much more than that alone. I know I seem to be digressing, but I really am trying to be coherent. I never was able to think rationally where she was concerned.

 "Anyway, as I was saying, we went to the park and had an enjoyable lunch and conversation. Afterward, as we strolled along the graveled path that wound through the park, she stumbled and threw her arms around me to keep her balance. It was only an instant, but it was wonderful to experience her embrace - even if she hadn't intended for it to have been taken that way.

 "She regained her footing and discovered something inside her shoe. I dropped my windbreaker onto a patch of grass next to the path and held her arm as she sat down. I removed her shoe and shook a tiny pebble into my hand. This was the agent whose mission was to bring us into contact. Perhaps I was too shy or lacking in confidence to take the cue which was given me by chance. Perhaps I didn't want to jeopardize what we certainly had for something we may not. Whatever the reason that moment passed, but not without giving up a souvenir.

 "I made a gesture of tossing the stone to the ground, but kept it concealed in my hand. After I put her shoe back on her foot, I stealthily slipped the pebble into my pocket.

"I was apparently a lunatic. She could never have felt the same way about me, and I wouldn't have wanted her to. My heart raced uncontrollably when she touched my hand. Oh, well, I may as well confess. It raced when she just looked at me. It was probably just as well we would never be life-mates. I'm not sure how long a person can live with chronic tachycardia.

 "After I had taken her to her car and she was well on her way home, I returned to the park. It was still early and I felt I had some thinking to do. Confusion seemed to be a normal state for me in those days and as much as I tried, I couldn't seem to sort out my feelings.

 "I took the stone from my pocket and, as I turned it over in my hand, a smile returned to my face. Still, thirty years later, it has the same effect upon me. It is a talisman that projects my thoughts to a time and place my heart calls home.

 "I know it's ridiculous to think it, perhaps insane to hope for it, but I wish to go home. Not the home of my genesis, but the place and time where I had successfully deluded myself into believing in happiness. I hadn't quite attained it, of course. But I felt it was not beyond my grasp.

 "Somehow, something went wrong along the way. I got caught up in my career (and myself), and her respect for me began to dwindle. At one time, she had remarked that she admired me. That was something that in later days she would tell me no more. She saw me sink into the embrace of avarice and did not like what she saw.

 "I had become the slave of my occupation only to discover what a cold and heartless mistress it could be. In what seemed like a twinkling, the lifestyle I had known was gone and I was left only with my memories.

 "Rolling the stone between my fingers, I find myself standing under the same old oak where we had lunch so many years ago. I am home again. The area seems the same. But I am now over sixty years old. And, as I gather the courage to look around me, I'm shaken back to what I've come to call reality. And, I am here boring you with remembrances of what I once called a life. Somehow unsettled. Somewhat emptier than before."

"......Would you mind repeating that??"

 "Of course, I meant what I said. I wish to go home. But we both know that's quite impossible. There is no way to rewind time and replay it at our leisure."

 "Okay! I can make believe as well as anyone else. What do I have to do?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun has seen fit to peek over the horizon for yet another day, and activity on the streets begins to grow despite the deep chill from the previous night. Empty steel drums become makeshift Franklin stoves as those "who have fallen through the safety net" begin a new day. It's a community of castaways, but it's a community of kindred souls with a level of concern for each other that they try to keep hidden. Sometimes they aren't so successful. Sometimes the heart shows through the tattered apparel.

 "Hey, Sophie! Where's Professor 'D'? I ain't seen 'im all mornin'."

 "Ain't none of us ever gonna se him again, Frankie. Least ways, not like we all knew him. That's him Doc Kardos is a-checking out, now."

 "Hey, Kardie! What's ailin' the Prof?"

 "Ain't nothin' ever ailin' Professor 'D' again, Frankie. In all the time he's been around here I've never seen him look so contented. Must've made his final peace."

"You mean he's d...... "

 "Couldn't be any deader. Looks like he just passed on in the middle of a sweet dream." ..............."Say! What's that in his hand, Sophie?"

 "Just a empty bottle o' Musky. Prob'ly thought that'd make the night seem a little warmer."

 "No. In his right hand."

"He used to call it a tally-man or some such thing. Looks like a rock to me, but he alsways was a-sayin' it was his ticket back. Back to where I ain't got a inklin'. He just set over there talkin' to it last night afore he went to sleep. Coupla times, I thought mebby there was somebody over there with 'im, but it was just the wind cuttin' a shine."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somewhere, in a grassy park, under an old oak, a couple in their early thirties hold each other like there is no tomorrow. And, whether there will be or not, it doesn't matter. Forever, for them, is in each others eyes.

 A fleeting thought passes through the young fellow's mind but hovers for a moment almost like a prayer,

"I've returned home, again. This time nothing can go wrong. Looks like eternity is going to be a walk in the park, if you'll pardon a last pun. And thank you for honoring my ticket back, Whoever you are."