Carlos

A brisk autumn breeze sought shelter in the warmth of Mr. Munch's unbuttoned overcoat. But as his blood pressure rose, making his head appear several sizes larger, the breeze rushed for cover, seeking shelter in a nearby wheat field.

Mr. Munch stood at the front gate of his home surveying the damage to his front yard. Several dozen small holes had been dug up on the lawn.

"This is the act of a crazy man!" Mr. Munch bellowed. "Grandfather!"

Carlos, Mr. Munch's grandfather, poked his head out of a second story window.

"Yes, Thomas?" Carlos replied. "Did you call me?"

"I did," said Mr. Munch, gaining some of his composure. "Will you come down here, right away, please."

"Right away, if not yesterday!" Carlos replied. " Would you like me to leap out the window? Or should I wait for a passing crow?"

"You can use the staircase, old man!" The words had no sooner skipped over Mr. Munch's tongue than he regretted having phrased them so poorly.

Carlos was old. As Carlos himself liked to say: 'I am eighty and five, but I am not dead, so do not toss me insults, then act surprised when I toss them back.'

Carlos had taught his grandson to be kind and generous, but Thomas Munch was not always a good student.

Carlos scolded his grandson by shutting the window. He then decided to take his time about getting downstairs.

"Let him wait," Carlos said to the cat. "Just because Thomas is in one of his dark moods does not give him the right to treat me like a bad dog. After all, it was only a few small holes. He makes a fuss over so little. If I found what I was looking for I could die happy. But does he care? No!"

Carlos sits on the bed, rubbing his sore legs with liniment. They are old and tired from many years of working the plow. He moans with satisfaction as he works the liniment into the skin.

"Who does he think he is?" Carlos said to the cat. "I worked this land and I built this house. If he does not like the things I do than he can go wallow with the sow for all I care. I will pay a visit to Juanita."

Carlos creeps quietly down the stairs and sneaks out the back door. It is but a five-minute walk to Juanita's place. He walks briskly and is there in four. He loves his Juanita.

Juanita's place in the graveyard is beneath a weeping willow and it is a comfort to Carlos that his Juanita is watched over with such grace.

"Juanita?" Carlos said. "I love you, still. And have once again searched in vain for the ring."

It seems that many years ago, during a violent storm, and in a drunken fit, Carlos tossed his wedding band out the window and cursed his Juanita for dying. An act he regrets and wishes to amend.

And so he digs.

"And I will find it, Juanita. And I will die happy. But enough talk for today. If you don't mind, I will take a little nap."

Carlos closed his eyes and danced with Juanita.

So we will let Carlos sleep and dance -- for now. Tomorrow is another day.