Looking For Lucy

It was Elbie. Because of Elbie, I can believe in myself with just a little more conviction. My new friend has shown me a glimpse of the courage it will take to begin the next phase of this life’s journey that I was forced on two years ago. I understand that I will still have doubts about my seemingly irrational decisions, but in such a simple way Elbie has convinced me to listen to my fragile heart and look forward to what comes next. I was looking for a sign. Elbie showed me a billboard.

Every single day I take a walk. As much an exercise for my spirit as it is for my physical health, I look forward to this release each day. With the abundance of hike and bike trails in Austin, I have a great number of choices in locations to walk. However, if I choose to walk after work, instead of fighting the traffic to drive to a trail, I usually just walk in my neighborhood. There are continuous sidewalks, lots of hills, and plenty of scenery to make the walk inviting. It was on these neighborhood jaunts that I started to notice a young man, around thirteen years of age, waiting on the same corner at about the same time in the same place everyday. It was obvious that the young man had special needs. The first few times I passed him, he would not make eye contact. But, as my routine became more familiar to him, I would catch him looking at me now and again. I would give him a smile and he would look away. It was at this point that I really began to look forward to walking this particular route. Rarely did my path vary after I began my limited contact with this young man. Each time I passed him, I wondered if he was waiting on someone to pick him up. I wondered if he was just out of school. I wondered if he was scared. I wondered so many things that I could not ask him. I could tell that he was garnering the courage to talk to me. So, daily, I would smile and say hello. One day, I slowed down and finally asked his name. He lowered his head, and said “Elbie”. Clearly by his manner, that was all he could muster for the day, so I kept walking. But what a joy I felt! I finally knew his name! The next day as I walked past, I said, “Hi, Elbie”. He said, “Have a nice day, have a nice day, have a nice day!” Then he smiled at me. Again, I could sense that was enough contact for one day. The routine continued and daily I would say, “Hi Elbie!” and he would always smile and instruct me to have a nice day. I did not feel that he wanted me to stop and talk as he consistently waved me on. Each time as I passed his spot, I would turn and see him pick up his things to leave. It was obvious that he was waiting on me to walk by before he went home. Several weeks ago, after I had missed the afternoon walks for a few days because of rain, I saw Elbie again. He stood up and smiled and said “Have a nice day, have a nice day, have a nice day!” I said my usual hello and he said, “What is your name?” After I told him, our routine expanded to include, “Hi Lucy, have a nice day, have a nice day, have a nice day!” That has been the extent of our conversations, but still I look forward to seeing Elbie in his spot. On several occasions, the rain would start before I could get home, yet Elbie was always there waiting. He was there in the heat and he was there in the rain. Did he wait for me on the days when I walked in the mornings and did not get to walk past this spot in the afternoon? Was he disappointed when I did not show up? He always had his backpack and he was always wearing his shirt with a University of Texas Logo on it and he was always on the corner. I continued to wonder about his circumstances. At the very least I wanted to know where he lived and why he was always waiting on the corner alone.

I walk at a different time on the weekends than I do on weekdays. I do not typically see Elbie on Sundays. But today was not typical. This Sunday I made a trip to the grocery store and as I was heading across the parking lot, I hear, “Hi Lucy!” There was Elbie. And, Elbie was smiling and waving and it was readily apparent that he was glad to see a friend. There in front of the grocery store, Elbie talked to me more than he ever had before. He said, “Where is your husband, your husband, where is he?....what is his name, your husband?” I told him my husband’s name was James. Elbie said, “James…..he said hello….yeah, James… he said hello….I mean tell James hello… he said hello and Elbie said hello!” About that time a lady walked up and Elbie took off into the store. I watched as the woman said something to Elbie. I stopped her and asked if she was Elbie’s mother. She smiled her acknowledgement. I told her of the encounters that Elbie and I had on the corner during my walks. She explained that for months he has wanted to just sit on the corner and watch the action after he gets off of the bus. Eventually he walks home, which is just a few houses away from his corner. I was so thrilled to have met his mother and to know a little more about Elbie. I did not think much more about my extended conversation with Elbie until later that day.

That afternoon I went on my walk. Even though I was taking the usual route, I knew that because it was a weekend, I would probably not see Elbie again that day. My walk was supposed to help me sort out all of these illogical ideas that I keep having. These ideas include quitting my job and just starting on a journey with no specific destination or itinerary. I have felt compelled to go see what else is out there. My move to Austin has helped me to build some courage. It has helped me to focus on my fate. And, it has enabled me to step back and wonder what comes next. I keep looking for that sign that tells me what I should do. Even though money will be a concern, I am thinking that I need to start my “self discovery search.” In my mind, this journey would involve starting out on the road and really listening to myself. Will I recognize what I am searching for when I see it? Where to start, how to start, and, most importantly, should I start on a trek across the country are the questions that I need to answer. Can’t I discover myself without having to let go of everything I have known? On my walk today, I finally realized how simple the answer was. Elbie was holding the sign. Every day Elbie gets off of the bus with his backpack. Every day Elbie studies the world that surrounds him and does not back down. What courage this young man exemplifies as he struggles to let himself make eye contact with the tall woman who walks past so often. Through good weather and bad, he examines life from the street corner and I have seen how he doesn’t want to miss a thing. I have watched as he gathered the nerve it took to speak to a stranger and I have seen him grow as he wishes for me to “have a nice day.”

“James said hello, I mean tell James hello.” Of course that is just Elbie getting his speech straight. He has no idea who James is. But I am taking that conversation for my billboard. If Elbie has the courage to not miss out, then I know that I can do the same. Since James has died, I have watched my kids call upon their strength as they start their own families. I know James would be as proud of them as I am. Surely a source of their strength comes from having watched their father. Through him they have seen the strength and stamina it takes to start a new business, become a great parent, be a loving spouse, exercise patience, take care of yourself, and live large. And, they have seen the fulfillment that accompanies having lived with such conviction. Perhaps from so much use, the reservoir is running low and I need to replenish the “courage tank” now by showing some strength of my own. I want my kids to know not to settle if there is something missing, but to search until they find it. I want them to see that you can search even if you are scared. I want them to understand that when they search for answers then they can begin to feel secure. They need to be able to search no matter the obstacles. And, they need to continue their search until the billboard comes into focus. Thanks, Elbie. Now I can go “looking for Lucy” armed with the strength of your courage. I am off to re-fill the tank. Please tell James I said hello.