A book, a man and kindness

An early morning wake up has me answering many emails and questions to coworkers. Only the tragedy in trying to fall back to sleep is the strange question of why would I buy a book for a man who probably doesn't even have it anymore.

That one significant piece of my past that just won't settle. I bet myself it was tossed the same day it was given.

What hurts the most is that I searched for the book. Ah ha the thought of genuine gift giving.  And now the one piece of me I never should have shared.  My love of rare books.

Alas you live and learn. Finding that some are just unappreciative of the effort.

And still why this morning does it churn inside of me so? Why can I not just push passed it? Why does the nerd in me need to know if it was kept? Why does it matter?

What is the remaining significance? Beyond in comparison but that of understanding one person? Perhaps I will never know,  just like many other parts of that history.

Alas just speaking of it has removed the halting breath. Now I can relax with the sunrise soon.  Forgetting about the book, the man and the idea I had of the moment.

Sometimes the oddest things keep me awake or wake me up in the morning. Truly interesting how I really didn't "get" a person at all.

To which I say my thanks to the saving grace. Thankful because I didn't need that kind of constant wonder. If loved, liked or hated. I don't have to weigh that anymore.

So even though I wonder what happened to that man and that book it is not ever for me to know whether anything I have was kept. They know. And that is the only factor.

Hmm.